


Terror in Barcelona

by HollowMashiro



Category: Danny Phantom, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A tad bit of horror, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Battle, Crossover, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, M/M, Viktor with a K fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:31:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollowMashiro/pseuds/HollowMashiro
Summary: Everyone has gathered for the Grand Prix Final, but something sinister stirs in the shadows… No one is safe.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So Phantom Planet didn’t happen, and the world isn’t outwardly aware that ghosts are a thing. Danny has gone to college (he’s ~19 and Dani is ~17), but Val voluntarily remained in Amity Park to take care of the ghosts in the most haunted city in the world.
> 
> There’s a brief cameo of an OC of mine. She hardly plays any role at all, but I feel like Danny would meet a bunch more ghosts during high school and, later, college.

Dani hummed as she wandered Barcelona, holding the straps to her backpack and taking in the sights. It wasn’t her first time in Spain – wasn’t even her first time in Barcelona – but it was still fun. She happily munched on an empanada she’d picked up from a stall and took a selfie in front of the Sagrada Familia church.

But there was something amiss, a sourness that turned the empanada bitter in her mouth. She glanced around and saw that no one else seemed to be bothered. Something spiritually foul was pinging on her senses. Dani surreptitiously sniffed the air and began heading northeast along the Avinguda Diagonal, tracking the feeling. She became alarmed as one mile passed, then two without coming across the source of the disturbance. Her senses weren’t as powerful as Danny’s – she could only comfortably stretch her senses to about a half mile – but that she’d been able to sense something from such a distance was disturbing. Beyond that, the sick, unsettling feeling became more pronounced the further she walked. Finally, she found what she was looking for, feeling nauseous.

It was basic ghost lore that ghosts had obsessions for something. Sometimes that something was a place or a person, which resulted in a haunting. The normal size for a location haunting was about the size of an urban house.

But this.

It was an _entire_ convention center.

And it was swamped in some of the most putrid, malevolent ectoplasmic energy she’d ever run across.

Dani swallowed. There was a powerful ghost in this place. From the smell of things, it had been in the human world for centuries.

Dani had run across many, many ghosts with all kinds of obsessions in her travels, helping them to either reach the Ghost Zone or to move on. She knew what this kind of energy meant.

People had been killed by this ghost. A lot of people, by the feel of the place. This ghost had been killing and growing in power for a long time. And since she hadn’t sensed it the last time she’d been in Barcelona, it wasn’t necessarily tied to the convention center, which made it more dangerous.

If she didn’t do anything, there would be more deaths.

But this wasn’t something she could tackle on her own.

She shakily grabbed her phone from her pocket without taking her eyes off the convention center and dialed a number she knew by heart. “Danny, we’ve got a big problem…”

* * *

 

Danny flew out the next day, packing as much Fentontech as he could possibly get through airport security (airplanes were faster than he was for the time being). Valerie stayed behind to keep an eye on Amity and to make excuses for Danny missing his classes, which Sam and Tucker helped with, even though they were several states away at colleges of their own.

Despite the airport being on the southern side of the city, several miles away from the convention center, Danny was able to taste a hint of foulness in the air the second the airplane touched down.

“Ugh,” he said when he met Dani in the airport. “You weren’t kidding about this ghost being a bad one.”

“You can sense it this far out?” Dani asked incredulously.

Danny grimaced. “Yeah. How far away are we?”

“Over ten miles. I can’t feel anything this far away.”

“Damn, that’s one strong ghost,” Danny said. “This is going to be a messy hunt. Where are we staying?”

“We’re sleeping on the streets, like I normally do.”

“Dani.”

“Kidding! I managed to get us a room at the Prince Hotel, near the convention center. There must be some event going on; they were almost fully booked. Tell Sam thanks for letting us use her credit card.”

Instead of transforming and flying to their hotel – which would likely draw the ghost’s attention to them, which would be a bad idea for the time being, as rushing headfirst to deal with a ghost this powerful would only result in casualties – they hailed a taxi and spent the ride to the hotel in silence. As they approached their destination, the heavy malevolence of the ghost pressed in on them.

Danny bit his lip as they stood in front of the hotel, casting a glance over his shoulder at the nearby convention center. For Danny, whose senses were sharper than Dani’s, the miasma felt stifling. “I don’t think we can rehabilitate this one,” he said, feeling the words settle in the air around them like a dense cloak. “There are too many people dead.”

Dani sighed softly, sadly. “I was afraid of that. You brought a Fenton Devastator?”

Danny nodded. “Two of them. Let’s go check in,” he said, not wanting to think about what they were going to have to do in the coming days.

* * *

 

They found out from the attendant at the front desk that the Prince Hotel was almost fully booked because of a figure skating event, the Grand Prix Final. After some research on their smartphones, they found that the Grand Prix would take place in the same convention center that was currently haunted.

Danny didn’t think this was a coincidence. Dani didn’t think so, either.

So the ghost they were after had some sort of obsession that had to do with figure skating. For more information, though, they’d have to actually explore the convention center. Danny shuddered at the thought of stepping into another malicious ghost’s lair. They’d have to wear suppressors to conceal their cores from the ghost while they were exploring, otherwise they’d risk starting a fight when they were unprepared and disadvantaged.

Danny and Dani headed up to their room, a simple suite with two queen beds. Once they’d settled in, Danny took the two suitcases he’d brought and opened them.

There were hardly any of the normal travel amenities inside. It was mostly ghost hunting tech, carefully disguised as everyday objects like most Fentontech was.

“I’m glad you brought all this stuff,” Dani said, sorting through the weaponry and containment devices. “I think we’re going to need it.”

* * *

 

It was the day before the Grand Prix Final. Danny and Dani had spent several days sneaking in and out of the convention center, trying to find the ghost in an attempt to deal with it before the skating competition. But once they were immersed in the ghost’s aura, it was impossible to track its precise location in the venue. They had to wait for it to make a move. And make a move, it would – research into the Grand Prix Final revealed that there was a long string of mysteriously unresolved missing persons cases associated with the event, no doubt the work of their murderous friend. It put both halfas on edge, not knowing what this ghost was waiting for.

Their plan for dealing with the ghost was simple enough – lure it to a central location (like the rink), contain it using a modified ghost shield, and wear it down enough for Danny to use a Fenton Devastator. If the ghost only showed itself in the middle of an international sporting event, then… well, things would be a bit trickier. Plus, they had to plan for the possibility that the ghost could take the entire stadium hostage before they could trap it with their ghost shield.

They’d also put some research time into finding out all they could about the Grand Prix Final. As such, they knew the names and faces of both the junior and senior competitors and their coaches. It was an extensive, exhausting list, but they needed to know the names and faces of the people the ghost would likely pay the most attention to.

It turned out that a bunch of the competitors were staying in the Prince Hotel, too.

“Huh? What are you looking at?” a short blonde competitor snarled – Yuri Plisetsky. Dani blinked. She hadn’t realized she’d been staring while she’d been thinking about who the ghost could target.

“Yurio, be nice to your fans!” Viktor Nikiforov said, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

Yuri made a noise somewhere between a squawk and a growl as he ducked out from under Viktor’s arm.

“Aww, are you shy? Here, they’re not too scary, I’ll show you—”

And that was how Dani found herself getting selfies with Yuri Plisetsky, Viktor Nikiforov, Yuuri Katsuki (who’d been trailing after his coach), and Christophe Giacometti (who’d seen the commotion and was determined to embarrass someone).

 _It’s nice_ , Dani thought morosely, _that they can be so carefree, with no idea of the danger they’re in._

“I’m sorry, did you not want pictures?” said a soft-spoken voice next to her. It was Katsuki – the other three men were roughhousing in the background.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just… thinking.”

“They can be a little overwhelming, can’t they?” Katsuki laughed.

“A bit,” Dani said, smiling in spite of herself. “Good luck in the Grand Prix.”

“A-ha, thank you…”

* * *

 

“So, who do think it’ll be this year?” Phichit said cheerfully, taking a sip of his drink.

“Noo, don’t be creepy,” Yuuri complained.

“What’s this?” Viktor said, eyes sparkling.

Phichit beamed. Skating gossip was his turf. “Well, they say at least one person goes missing each year at the Grand Prix Finals, usually someone from the stands, though one year it was a judge. Every year there’s a new one, like clockwork. A bit creepy, don’t you think?”

“Hmm, scary,” Viktor said in a faux-nervous voice.

“Come on, there’s no evidence to suggest that any of those disappearances are related, other than that all the victims attended the Grand Prix,” Yuuri complained.

“Still though, you’ve got to admit there’s something going on,” Phichit said.

“Psh,” Yuri said. “Who believes in stupid ghost stories nowadays?”

Later, as dinner moved on to other, more lighthearted topics – like the banquet at the Sochi Grand Prix – the thought that the Grand Prix could be haunted or cursed completely slipped from everyone’s minds.

Yuuri would look back at this dinner after the Barcelona Grand Prix and think that they all really should have paid more attention to Phichit.

* * *

 

The competition started without a hitch. The ghost only seemed interested in the senior men’s skating, for some reason – not the ladies’, or the pairs, or any of the juniors.

Danny and Dani were finally able to figure out what the center of the ghost’s obsession was, after observing Yuuri Katsuki’s short program. The ghost’s attention was laser focused on Viktor Nikiforov, who, after a quick Google search, appeared to be a five-time world champion taking the season off to coach Katsuki.

“Why him, though?” Dani hissed as they watched from the stands. “He’s nowhere near old enough to be this ghost’s only obsession.”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “I have heard of ghost’s obsessions shifting if the object of their original obsession is no more. Maybe this one focuses on skating legends – or just highly skilled skaters, in general.”

The ghost’s malevolence ratcheted up following Yuri Plisetsky’s record-breaking short program. The two halfas tensed in their seats, about to spring up and begin engaging the ghost, when it quieted again, obviously waiting for something. It was disconcerting. Not many ghosts had this kind of patience.

To Danny’s and Dani’s confusion, the ghost seemed to be content to wait until the next day of the competition. For what, however, they didn’t know.

* * *

 

She could barely remember strapping bones to her boots to glide across the ice. She remembered with a little more clarity slipping and cracking her head against the ice – a bloom of pain, then a black emptiness that twisted her into something new, then waking up over a frozen lake.

She remembered drifting for a while before a group of laughing children came to the lake with bone-skates to play. She was suddenly, abruptly _ravenous_ , and she fed off the nutritious miasma of emotion the children were emitting.

It was a few years (decades, maybe? time no longer held the same meaning as it once did; she only paid attention to the freezing and thawing cycles) before there was another fatality on the ice, this time a middle-aged man. She was drawn irresistibly to the body, and before she knew it, she was devouring the man’s twinkling life force as it escaped the mortal shell.

It was _delicious_. It was a startling power boost, too, her entire body humming.

She had to feel that again. So the next time skaters stepped onto the ice, she showed herself and killed one, claws digging into a soft neck.

Skaters stopped coming to her lake; her only visitor was a shaman who attempted to banish her. His charms and herbs stung, but she was bolstered by the life force she’d devoured, and she eventually won out over him. But skaters still weren’t coming for her to feed on. So she moved lakes. Ice skating was her center, after all, not the lake itself. So wherever there were many skaters, there she was, ready to feed and grow.

She learned to be wily, to choose her victims quietly and to drain their life after they had been carefully lured into seclusion or killed in an unfortunate accident. As she killed, she grew more powerful, allowing her to force the lake to stay frozen for longer than it should have, inviting skaters further and further into the summer months. She had to move lakes a few more times before she figured out that the optimal amount of feeding to allow her to stay hidden was one human per freeze/thaw cycle.

Soon, the humans began ice skating in earnest, attaching metal to their feet that cut into the ice instead of merely gliding along its surface. She was fascinated by the advancement. And when the humans began competing to see who could skate best, she knew she had to choose only the juiciest skaters and fans to consume, the ones who experienced the highest highs while skating. She quickly figured out, though, that to keep her presence a secret, she should stay away from the high-profile skaters, no matter how delicious they smelled.

She started following the informal competitions and learned the names of the most promising skaters. She only went after them after they were sidelined by age or injury, and even then, she kept her meals scattered spatially to prevent the humans from suspecting anything. She didn’t want another unpleasant run-in with a shaman, no matter that her last encounter had ended in her favor.

She haunted the Worlds venue, the first international skating competition ever. She switched to feeding at the Grand Prix Finals when the competition was established almost a century later. By now, her power and influence had grown monstrous, driving away all lesser spirits on her hunting grounds.

Her current obsession was a human named Viktor Nikiforov. A five-time world champion and a breathtaking skater, he had more than garnered her interest.

But then Yuuri Katsuki had taken him away from skating competitively, and from her. She would never forgive that.

But caution won out over vengeance, and she settled for watching and waiting for an opportunity to covertly kill Katsuki. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was at the competition, too, and she passed the time by ogling him.

Her resolve was tested when her beloved Viktor’s short program record was broken by Yuri Plisetsky. She held onto her temper by her long fingernails.

But her self-control shattered as she watched Katsuki skate his free skate.

She had centuries of experience scoring competitive skating, and even though the rules and scoring guidelines kept changing, she was generally aware of how the scoring system worked. If Katsuki skated his free skate perfectly, he’d shatter her beloved Viktor’s other record.

And that was unacceptable.

She came out of hiding and allowed her presence to settle into the rink, bringing the venue under her control. If a human set foot on her ice, they’d be completely under her command.

This wasn’t a power she used often. But for Yuuri Katsuki, she’d make an exception. She wanted his death to be as physically painful as possible.

* * *

 

Danny and Dani felt the shift in the ghost’s attention as soon as Yuuri Katsuki began his free skate. The ghost was concentrating on the rink, wrapping itself around the skater and through the ice, making the rink treacherous for any human skating on it. It closed and sealed the gates leading onto the rink, as well as the doors leading into the arena. The ghost had trapped the entire audience, as they’d feared. They only had a limited time to act. Luckily, the ghost had done half their job for them, concentrating itself into a central location where it could be trapped.

Danny nodded, and Dani took off, holding the four poles of the Fenton Ward. It was tricky to set up in the middle of a fight and needed a ghost to power it, but Dani was confident she’d be able to set up the Fenton’s most powerful shield yet, capable of blocking both ghosts and humans but programmable with genetic and ecto signatures to allow individuals through, before Danny was forced to intervene. Disguised in form-concealing clothes, she made it down to the boards and ran around the rink, stabbing a pole straight into the concrete with her ghostly strength in the west.

Dani could feel the attention of the ghost momentarily shift to her. She shuddered as she felt the heavy weight of a predator’s gaze zero in on her and hoped that the suppressor for her core was doing its job correctly. Finally, deeming her uninteresting, the ghost took its eyes off of her and returned to watching Katsuki like a hungry bear.

As focused as the audience was on Katsuki, they didn’t notice Dani running around the rink and driving another pole into the concrete in the south.

 _Please, let me make it in time_ , Dani pleaded as Katsuki’s free skate ended and she positioned the third pole in the east.

The malevolence in the ghost surged and swam around Katsuki. The ghost was making its move. Dimly, she was aware of Danny removing his suppressant bracelet and making his way down to the boards, ready to intervene. The ghost was momentarily distracted by another ghost in its space, especially once Danny formed skates on his shoes made of ice, but it decided to gleefully go ahead and start manipulating Katsuki anyway.

It was totally underestimating them. Dani couldn’t decide whether to be insulted or relieved for the opening.

She made it to the north just as that idiot Nikiforov decided to try to jump over the boards onto cursed ice. Dani yanked him back before aligning the final pole, removing her own suppressant bracelet, and wrapping her hands around the pole, ready to transform and pour her energy into the Ward the instant Danny had its undivided attention.

* * *

 

The final echoing strains of _Yuuri on Ice_ sounded and Yuuri slid into his ending position, one hand pointing at Viktor. He’d skated his routine _perfectly_. It hadn’t sunk in yet, the elation not quite hitting him.

He hadn’t even relaxed from the final pose when a strange chill creeped into his limbs, cooling the sweat on his skin. Yuuri didn’t think much of it until he tried to move.

He couldn’t. His eyes widened and he managed a whimper before he fell still, icy fingers digging into his sides.

 _What?_ he thought before a shroud fell over his mind, numbing him to the world. He watched blearily as his tired limbs moved without his instruction and he switched positions into an unfamiliar pose. Then he began to skate, dancing to music only he could hear.

* * *

 

“What is that moron doing?” Yuri breathed in horror as Yuuri started skating again. How did he even have the stamina to keep going like he did?

Viktor clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip. Something was very badly wrong – but what? What could possibly prompt Yuuri to risk disqualification? Or worse, injury? His body wouldn’t hold up forever under such strain. What was he trying to say?

“Uh, Yuuri Katsuki has continued skating competitively even though his music has ended. If he keeps skating past the fifteen second mark, he’ll be disqualified,” the announcer said, sounding bewildered.

Viktor didn’t blame him. He couldn’t understand Yuuri’s actions at all, either.

“Oi! Katsudon! What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Are you trying to lose?!” Yuri roared from the stands. Viktor couldn’t believe Yuri would risk disqualification himself – attempting to disrupt another skater’s routine was punishable by disqualification – to try to get through to Yuuri. Yuuri gave no sign he’d heard anything.

The fifteen second mark crept closer, and Yuuri kept skating.

Viktor felt like choking. All their work, and it was going down the drain before his eyes, and he didn’t even know _why._ He gripped the gold ring on his finger harshly.

There were still a few seconds. If he didn’t attempt to verbally help his student before then (which would also result in Yuuri’s disqualification), there was still a slim chance Yuuri would stop.

Yuuri leapt into a perfect quad toeloop just as the fifteen seconds passed.

“A fifth quad from Katsuki. What does he have planned? It doesn’t look like his coach knows either. He has disqualified himself now,” the announcer said disbelievingly.

Viktor gave into the urge to cry and sprinted to a gate, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Yuuri! Stop! What are you doing?” Viktor called desperately.

He made it to the closest gate, the one Yuuri had entered the ice on, only to find it closed and locked. Strange, part of him noted, while he attempted to open the gate, switching his gaze between his efforts and his student, who was still skating frenetically.

There was nothing alluring about this dance, nothing seductive. It was all energy and angry movement, a sharp performance meant to intimidate the audience. After giving such a stunning, high-energy performance in his free skate, Viktor just couldn’t understand how Yuuri could keep going in such a way, the step sequences crisp and the jumps flawless. High stamina or not, it just didn’t seem possible.

Viktor gave up on trying to unlock the gate and was just about to jump over the boards to get to Yuuri when a gloved hand closed on his arm and yanked him back. He went sprawling into Yakov and Yuri, who had hurried down to the boards to see what was happening. Behind them were Christophe, Phichit, and Celestino. Hovering some ways back farther was a small team of medics, who were waiting for Yuuri to get off the ice to check for injuries. Viktor also noted that the closest cameras were trained on him.

He probably looked like a mess, teary and frantic. Viktor could care less.

Viktor scrambled to get back to his feet. In front of the gate was the person who had all but thrown him to the side to land on Yuri and Yakov (the former had already jerked to his feet and the latter was still on the ground, grumbling and being helped up by Phichit and Celestino). They were on the shorter side, but all distinguishing features were covered by a bulky jacket with a face mask that concealed their face below the eyes and a hood that covered their hair. The person was wearing baggy sweatpants and tennis shoes that wouldn’t have looked out of place on half of the athletes in the rink. Their arms were extended in front of them, gripping a green and silver staff that looked like it had somehow been driven straight through the concrete.

Before Viktor could make it back to the boards, the announcer said, “What’s this? An unknown skater has jumped over the boards and is streaking towards Katsuki!” Another figure in similarly form-concealing clothes was, indeed, skating quickly towards Yuuri from the opposite side of the rink, hunched over and furiously stroking forward. Viktor’s heart leapt into his throat. A collision looked to be inevitable, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“YUURI!”

* * *

 

 _What is happening_ , Yuuri thought hazily as his body moved, a frantic and angry melody echoing in his head. _Am I skating?_

He distantly felt the impact of a quad ripple through his body, which gave a token protest before it was forced to keep moving.

Yuuri tried to feel alarmed about this but found he couldn’t feel much of anything beyond the cold of the rink stinging his cheeks and the strain of his tired body as it was forced past its limits.

As he transitioned into a scratch spin, pulling his arms and legs in close, he saw a blur barreling across the ice towards him. _No, don’t come this way,_ he thought hazily. _I’ll hit you with my skates._

“YUURI!”

_Viktor?_

There was a jarring impact as the blur collided with him and sent them both skidding across the ice. Yuuri felt arms like vices clamp around his torso before he was bodily lifted from the ice.

Sensation came rushing back as the melody in his head was abruptly cut off. The labored breaths and pain in his lungs, the screaming of his overworked muscles, the chittering of the crowd, the feeling of being hauled across the ice. And, most of all, the spasming of his limbs as he involuntarily struggled against his captor, trying to continue his dance across the ice.

Yuuri would have screamed in fright if he had the breath. As it was, he managed some panicked, choked whimpers. He couldn’t control his flailing body, no matter how much it hurt to move, and he was being carted across the ice towards the boards way too fast. They were going to hit the boards if his captor (rescuer?) didn’t slow down, which they didn’t seem inclined to do. Yuuri could only watch in horror as the boards approached – and then he was looking back at the rink.

_What?_

There was a jarring impact along his back, and he saw the ceiling for a split second before there was a second impact. Later, Yuuri would see on tape that his captor had jumped straight over the boards, almost ten feet in the air somehow, rotated to take the hit against the nearby wall, and then rotated again so that Yuuri landed on top of them.

Yuuri could barely breathe, and his vision was swimming. His heart felt like it was working too hard, too fast, and he was distantly aware that he was furiously struggling to get away from the person who had separated him from the rink.

He was flipped over so his face was pressed into the concrete and felt a solid, unyielding weight above him keeping him pinned in place. That didn’t stop his traitorous body from bucking and trying the wriggle out of the hold. There was a click, something snapping around his wrist, an echoing scream in his head –

And it stopped.

Yuuri collapsed to the concrete, choking on his breath and trying to keep from passing out. His body was gloriously still and – as he found out by twitching his fingers – back under his control again. Heat leached from his body into the cool concrete as the weight above him vanished. Moments later, someone was pulling him into their arms, running a hand over his sweaty hair and clasping one of his hands in the other.

“Yuuri, Yuuri,” the person said, chanting his name like a prayer. It sounded like Viktor. Yuuri struggled to focus on silver hair and terrified blue eyes.

“Vik… tor…” he said, choking on his dry throat. He struggled to tighten his grip on the hand holding his. Something that sounded distinctly like a sob emerged from Viktor’s throat.

Yuuri didn’t know what had happened. All he knew was that Viktor was holding him, and Yurio and Phichit were kneeling in front of him, looking scared, and there were soothing hands running down his trembling limbs. He sobbed, the fear of being out of control catching up with him, and he leaned back against Viktor, seeking comfort.

Sometime later, a water bottle was presented to him, and he drank greedily, stopping only to catch his breath. Everything was sore, but he was feeling leagues better for rehydrating. He pushed against Viktor and achingly sat up, wiping at his forehead. He could feel Viktor’s grip on his hand tighten. Phichit still looked concerned, but Yurio had gotten over his fear and looked ready to murder him.

“The fuck was that, Katsuki?” Yuri snarled, pointing toward the rink. “You got yourself disqualified! How am I supposed to compete against you properly if you pull a stupid-ass stunt like that, huh?”

“Disqualified?” Yuuri repeated, feeling like someone had stopped his heart.

“Yes, disqualified, you absolute fucking moron, what did you think would happen if you kept skating after your program—”

Yuuri choked, feeling numb. He was trembling. He barely recognized his own voice when he said, “Is that what happened?”

He heard Viktor’s breath catch behind him and Yurio gaped at him incredulously.

“Yuuri, what is that supposed to mean?” Phichit asked, gripping his calf tightly and suddenly looking scared. “Do you not know what happened?”

Yuuri felt like curling up in Viktor’s arms until the world started making sense again, but he forced himself to answer, feeling detached. “I remember ending my free skate. And then… there was music playing in my head, but I don’t remember skating to it.”

Phichit was clearly fighting to stay calm. “Anything else?”

Yuuri forced himself to think back to that feeling of fuzziness. “Someone slammed into me. That’s about all I remember before I was off the rink…” Yuuri swallowed, feeling sick. “What happened then?”

Yurio and Phichit clearly exchanged a look, clearly debating whether Yuuri was stable enough to be told anything, when a hand carded through his hair and Viktor released a shuddering sigh. “Okay. Something’s definitely wrong,” he said, sounding scared and broken.

Yuuri swallowed. His friends were looking at him like he was something fragile and breakable, and he’d somehow hurt Viktor terribly. But not knowing what was happening on the ice was killing him. He had to know.

“Please tell me,” Yuuri said, feeling like the scum of the earth.

Phichit and Yurio exchanged another look before Phichit said, “Um, the guy who got you off the ice has been skating around the rink nonstop. Security hasn’t intervened yet, for some reason.”

“It’s like they’ve been stymied by closed doors,” Yuri scoffed, jerking with his head to a set of doors that led back to the locker rooms. Yuuri turned his head to look, and the doors were indeed closed.

“That’s weird,” Yuuri murmured, mostly to himself.

“Speaking of weird, what’s that bulky thing on your wrist?” Phichit asked, pointing, clearly trying to change the subject. Yuuri held up his arm and saw that a bracelet had been attached by someone. It was donut-shaped, silver with neon green circuitry.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said, fiddling with it. It wouldn’t slip up or down his arm, and he couldn’t find a clasp. For the time being, it seemed it was well and truly stuck on his arm.

“Come on,” Viktor said. It sounded like he’d been crying. “Let’s get you looked at by the rinkside medics.”

“Okay.”

Yuuri winced as Phichit and Viktor helped him to his protesting feet. (Yuuri idly noted that someone had put his skate guards back on.) Viktor slung an arm over his shoulder and took Yuuri’s weight.

“It looks like Katsuki’s back on his feet!” the announcer said. “We don’t know why he did what he did yet—”

Yuuri tuned out the rest of the announcer’s speech as a cold realization washed over him and froze him in his tracks. This was the Grand Prix. Whatever had happened had been witnessed by millions of people live, from multiple angles. Worse, his old coach and Yakov and Christophe were there, looking either concerned or disgusted. And worst, his parents and his friends – all the people cheering for him back home – had seen that. Yuuri felt his throat clog as the shame threatened to floor him.

“None of that,” Viktor murmured in his ear. “Don’t think about the audience. Let’s just get you to the medics.”

Yuuri let out a shaky breath. “Yes. Okay.”

They barely got two steps before the announcer said, “What on earth—!”

Yuuri turned his head just in time to see the heavily clothed figure who had gotten him off the ice jump straight up from the center of the rink. They didn’t jump up one foot, or two feet, or three feet, or even ten feet, which they’d somehow managed to get Yuuri off the ice. No, they jumped over eighty feet into the air, scraping the ceiling of the arena with their feet as they backflipped. Yuuri felt his jaw drop.

Then there was a flash of light surrounding the figure that forced Yuuri to look away, and by the time he looked back, he only saw a blur of white and black as the figure rocketed towards the ground. The figure landed with a bone-jarring crash, the ice of the rink splintering under their feet until the entire rink was spiderwebbed with cracks.

“The fuck…?” Yuuri heard Yuri say. Yuuri could hardly believe it himself – wouldn’t have believed it, had he not witnessed it with his own eyes.

The white-haired figure stood from where he’d been crouching. Somehow, he’d lost the concealing jacket and sweatpants, and was dressed in a black and white, form-fitting jumpsuit. He looked, from a distance, to be older than Yurio but younger than Yuuri. He – for the figure definitely looked like a he, now – crossed his arms, as though he was waiting for something.

He didn’t have to wait for long. A glass-shattering shriek echoed through the arena, and Yuuri felt as if gravity had suddenly doubled for a brief moment. He struggled to stay on his feet, and it felt like his ears were trying to vibrate right off his head.

Then, before his disbelieving eyes, a second figure rose from the ice.

* * *

 

 _Now_ , Dani thought as the ghost showed itself, provoked by Danny’s actions. She let herself die, transforming into her ghostly alter ego, and poured energy into the Ward. The four poles she’d planted gleamed before a green dome formed above the rink, trapping the ghost and forcibly removing its influence from the rest of the convention center.

There was a second, furious scream as the ghost realized it had been tricked. It streaked to where Dani was standing and slammed against the barrier, snarling. Dani heard several frightened screams behind her. Up close, Dani could see that the ghost looked feminine, with long black hair and a shapely figure under a flowing gray dress. Her eyes were pitch black with tiny blue pinpoints of light, and her lips were curled back in a snarl to reveal pointed teeth. She looked like she was entirely made of ice, her skin a pale blue, with long claws extending from her fingertips to rake against the Ward. Dani winced as she felt the Ward’s drain as it compensated for the damage the ghost was doing.

Two white-gloved hands gripped the ghost’s shoulders. “Hey, you didn’t forget about me, did you?” Danny said lightheartedly as he yanked the ghost away from the barrier and flung her into the center of the rink.

* * *

 

“The fuck is happening?” Yuri sputtered, staring at the damaged rink in aghast confusion.

Yuuri understood the sentiment. He’d almost passed out when the female horror had appeared almost right in front of them, stopped only by a transparent green shield.

Two… Yuuri wasn’t sure what they were, because they sure weren’t human – things were battling in the middle of the rink. One was fighting with green lasers; the other was fighting with what looked like giant icicles. The one with the icicles looked like it was winning, but the one with the lasers wasn’t giving up. Yuuri could barely make out what was happening; the combatants were moving so fast.

“Two, uh, beings are fighting in the rink,” the announcer said shakily, background noise against the sounds of the fight. “We have no idea what they are or why they’re here, but they appear to be hostile. It would probably be best if we all evacuated,” he finished.

A few moments passed before the announcer spoke again, noticeably squeaky and scared. “Um, it appears all the doors leading out of the stadium have been closed and sealed, and cell reception has been cut off. Um, please shelter as best you can in your seats…”

Yuuri could see an immediate uproar and panic in the crowd. Some people headed straight for the doors, trying to pry them open, while others cowered in the stands, using the seats in front of them as a shield. There was general chaos, and Yuuri hoped no one would be hurt.

“Hey, this stupid thing is jammed shut!” Yuri shouted, attempting to heave the closest doors out of the rink open. Well, that confirmed that they were all stuck here.

“Hey, you! You know what’s happening, don’t you?” Yuuri heard Christophe say. He tore his eyes from the spectacle in front of him to see another one of the… creatures… standing in front of a tall, glowing, metal pole, gripping it tightly in both hands. She looked human enough, if one ignored the slight glow around her and her inhuman green eyes. Christophe was firmly grasping one of her arms.

“Look, buddy, I’m maintaining the barrier that’s keeping everyone safe. If you want to die, be my guest, but otherwise, don’t mess with me or the equipment,” she snapped.

Christophe reared back, stung.

Viktor’s hold on Yuuri tightened as he automatically lashed out from the brusque dismissal of his friend. “You’ve interrupted – no, ruined – this Grand Prix Final. You can damn well spare some time to explain yourself. Who are you? What are you? And why are you here?”

“Name’s Danielle Phantom. My brother Danny is fighting in the rink,” she said distantly, only half of her focus on answering their questions. “I’m a ghost. We’re trying to keep the other ghost from killing anyone else.”

“Ghosts?” Christophe squeaked.

“Anyone else...?” Celestino echoed.

Phichit, meanwhile, focused sharply on the female Phantom and made an intuitive leap. “You mean all the disappearances at the previous Grand Prix Finals were actually this ghost killing and eating people?”

“Not necessarily eating them, but yes,” Phantom said. “You’re taking this remarkably well.”

“Ghosts are pretty prevalent in Thai culture, so it’s not too big of a surprise for me that ghosts exist. I think everyone else is in shock, though,” Phichit explained cheerfully.

Yuuri winced as the male Phantom was forcefully thrown through the shield his sister had erected and impacted harshly with the wall, cracking it. The other ghost attempted to follow him but was stopped short by the barrier. She screeched angrily and raked her claws across the shield before turning to stare disconcertingly at Viktor.

It wasn’t terribly comforting to know that the only thing keeping the other ghost from tearing them all to bits was a transparent, selectively passable barrier. Thankfully, Phantom quickly recovered from smashing into the wall and tackled her back into the center of the rink, away from the shield.

“This just in,” the announcer said, sounding like a news reporter. “We’re witnessing a fight between two ghosts, an unknown aggressor and Danny Phantom. His sister is by the boards, maintaining a shield to keep the ghost contained. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what’s happening…”

There was an uproar from the crowd as everyone processed what the announcer had just said. It was unbelievable, but they couldn’t deny what was happening in front of their own eyes. There was some fearful shouting, a lot of cowering behind the stands, and a couple of cheers from the more adaptable individuals.

“Wait. If all this is really happening, then… what happened to Yuuri?” Phichit asked.

“You mean you don’t think he did what he did on purpose?” Yuri said.

“Definitely not,” Phantom confirmed. “The ghost overshadowed him. Took control of his body. Pretty sure she was trying to kill him.”

Viktor’s grip on Yuuri’s shoulders tightened like a vice. “What do you mean?”

“The ghost was trying to force Katsuki past his limits to the point of physical injury. His muscles and ligaments would have torn, and still she’d have forced him to keep skating through the pain. Eventually, the strain would stop his heart. Not a nice way to go,” Phantom explained.

Viktor made a pained noise and embraced Yuuri possessively from behind, wrapping his arms around the other skater. Yuuri felt the icy tendrils of panic creep up his spine and choke him.

“She can’t do that now, right?” Viktor demanded.

“No. That bracelet removed her influence and keeps him from further harm from her,” Phantom said, glancing towards Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri could hardly believe what he was hearing. Without the two Phantoms, he would have _died_.

“Breathe in, breathe out, Yuuri,” Viktor murmured against his neck, having recognized the symptoms of a panic attack. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Yuuri fought to relax into Viktor’s hold. The words were soothing, but being out of control – being almost killed – had left him deeply unsettled.

He watched the fight in something of a daze. He was drawing strength from Viktor’s presence, but the bracelet that kept him safe was an ever-present reminder of how close he’d come to being killed. Yuuri tried to ground himself with Viktor’s touch and wound up seeing a pattern in the fight, instead.

There was a certain synchronization of both combatants’ movements – attack, block, counter, dodge – that was reminiscent of a pair skate, except both parties were trying to maim each other. A certain fluid, expressive grace encapsulated each of the female ghost’s movements, while Phantom was more economical. It was like watching two people dance – their forms harmonized despite the different styles.

But Phantom was losing. Yuuri could see it in the way it took longer and longer for him to recover from being thrown around, could see it in the way his attacks became weaker and more desperate, could see it in the way he had more and more trouble blocking or dodging the ghost’s attacks. Yuuri felt his breath catch in his throat at the realization. People (including him) would die if Phantom didn’t win. But what could he do?

Before he realized what he was doing, Yuuri cupped his hands around his mouth. “Go, Phantom! You can win!” he yelled.

There was a moment of silence before Christophe chimed in, “Kick her ass! You can do it!”

And Viktor called, “We believe in you!”

At the sound of Viktor’s voice, the female ghost paused for a split second, staring at Viktor in betrayal. Phantom took that opportunity to attack, snapping something around her neck.

The murderous ghost gave a bone chilling screech, hobbling on the ice and clawing at a collar on her neck that hadn’t been there before. The male Phantom redoubled his attack, sending the ghost skidding across the ice to crash into the barrier. The two ghosts began to ferociously battle again, but this time, Yuuri could see that they were more evenly matched, especially now that Phantom had pulled out all the stops, attacking not just with green lasers but also with blistering bolts of electricity and jagged shards of ice. The fight seemed to stretch into infinity, each second feeling like years.

Something had to give. They couldn’t keep fighting forever.

As it turned out, the winds blew in Phantom’s favor, and he nailed the other ghost in the heart with what looked like a devastating blast of electricity. The other ghost screamed as she was sent flying.

Instead of pressing his advantage, Phantom paused, staring at the other ghost from across the ice. Yuuri blinked, and suddenly Phantom was hobbling by the boards. Within the shield, the rink was completely obscured by a snowstorm.

* * *

 

The ghost gave a hideous smile as Danny panted, ectoplasm dripping from wounds he’d been too slow to avoid. That wasn’t to say he hadn’t given the ghost a run for her money, either – her hair looked burnt, and small chunks of ice had been carved out of her hide, plus the scorch mark in the middle of her chest where he’d nailed her with his ecto-electricity. With the Fenton Drainer he’d attached to her neck siphoning away her strength, they were about evenly matched, and whoever would win would be whoever could outlast the other. With all the helpful Fentontech attached to his belt, Danny had a feeling he’d be the one to win.

And the ghost had realized this, too.

The ghost’s form began glowing brightly, and the Fenton Drainer sparked before snapping off, dead at her feet. Danny stared stupidly at her, trying to figure out what she was doing, before cursing and flying beyond the Ward’s boundaries as fast as he could.

He almost didn’t make it.

An explosion of foul ectoplasmic energy and shards of ice filled the Ward, nipping at Danny’s tail before he made it beyond the Ward. Danny could see the moment the shredding energy impacted with the Ward, as it shuddered under the strain and Dani swayed, struggling to maintain the Ward under the pressure. He landed next to her, ignoring the wide-eyed humans behind her, and grit his teeth.

“Fuck,” he said succinctly. He knew what was happening, knew what kind of measure the ghost was implementing – and was helpless to do anything to stop it.

“Care to share with the rest of the class, Danny? For those of us who haven’t been studying ghost lore like you have?” Dani asked, strain evident in her voice. Danny could sense that the humans were interested in this answer as well. They were also fairly collected for being caught in the middle of a ghost attack. Danny wondered if Dani had said anything to them.

“Right. Sparknotes version: ghosts have things called lairs, which are created by their energy and are like their homes. They can set up whatever rules they want to in this lair. They usually can’t do this in the human world, because the energy cost is far too great, but this one is going ahead and making this space her lair anyway. It’s a suicide tactic. She’s trying to take down the Ward to kill all of us in one last outburst, or she’s going to try to take me out by forcing me to play by her rules,” Danny explained.

“And what are her rules?” one of the humans asked. Danny glanced over his shoulder to see that it was Yakov Feltsman who had asked the question.

“That’s entirely up to her. I can try to figure out what she’s up to…” Danny bit his lip and, before he could change his mind, stuck a finger through the Ward. He almost immediately pulled it out again, cursing at what he’d discerned and nursing the injured finger.

“What is it? What are her rules?” Phichit Chulanont asked.

Danny felt his upper lip curling. “…She’s forbidden combat of any kind. The only way to beat her and destroy the lair is to win in figure skating against her.”

Dani looked alarmed. “I know you’ve been learning the Dance of Ice from Frostbite, but this sounds like it’s a whole other level of skating. Can you do it?”

Danny gritted his teeth. “I don’t think so,” he confessed, feeling like the admission cost him dearly. In a sense, it did – they had underestimated this ghost, and if they couldn’t find a way to beat her, they might have just consigned an entire stadium of people to death. The situation was dire. “I can fight on ice, but I can’t dance on it, not like the competitors here can.”

“Then the solution’s simple then, isn’t it?” Christophe Giacometti said, folding his arms. Danny looked at him in surprise. “Just send one of us out to compete against her. We’re the best of the best.”

Dani shook her head immediately. “No. A human wouldn’t survive in there. The temperature’s dropping rapidly. It’s already far below freezing. From the looks of things, she’s forcing it down to almost absolute zero.”

“Ghosts can _do_ that?” Celestino Cialdini gaped.

“She’s been feeding off humans for centuries. Her core has to be pretty powerful by now. I’m not terribly surprised a core like hers could do such a thing.”

“So what’s the plan? You guys have got to have something better than just waiting until the shield collapses,” Yuri Plisetsky said harshly.

“ _Could you get everyone out in time?_ ” Dani asked in ghost-speak so the humans couldn’t understand her. (Since everything was still being filmed, her words would be eventually translated, but for the moment, she didn’t want to cause a panic.)

Danny grimaced. “ _No way. At the rate she’s developing that lair, even if I did bust open all the doors to let people out, they wouldn’t all make it in time before the Ward failed._ ”

“ _Some are better than none, right? Get to it! Unless you have any better ideas?_ ” Dani snapped.

Danny appeared to be deep in thought, his brow furrowed. “ _…There might actually be something. A kind of overshadowing that only someone like us could do. Silvana told me it was possible…_ ”

Over the years, Danny had had more than his fair share of injuries from ghost fights. The yeti ghosts of the Far Frozen could only do so much with Danny’s unique biology, so they’d directed Danny, Sam, and Tucker to a renowned but extortionate healer ghost named Silvana. She was an ally only because Danny had something special to offer her – stable, undiseased halfa blood that she could study. She was very obviously helping Danny only for her own benefit, but as long as she did her job and didn’t sell him out to Plasmius, Danny could care less. She occasionally would show him some of the results of her research, which helped Danny understand himself and his capabilities better. The particular technique Danny was currently thinking of had been nothing more than a thought exercise on her part, but Danny had tried it out with just an arm with Sam, so he knew it worked.

He’d never done it with a full person before, much less one he wasn’t familiar with, but it was their best shot at getting everyone out of this clusterfuck alive.

“I need a volunteer, one who can figure skate,” Danny said in English, ignoring Dani’s incredulous look. Dani and Silvana weren’t on the best of terms.

“You’ve got me,” said Christophe Giacometti immediately. “What do you need?”

Danny grimaced. Hopefully the man wouldn’t change his mind after he described the technique. “Do you know what overshadowing is? It’s like possession. What I need to do takes it several steps further…”

It took a couple minutes of explaining, but Danny knew he’d lost his human audience when the incredulous looks started popping up.

“You expect us to hand over that kind of trust to you, when you got us into this situation in the first place?” Yuri Plisetsky said incredulously.

“If we hadn’t intervened, your friend over there would be dead by now,” Dani snapped.

“So instead of just one of us, now all of us are at risk. Wonderful,” Yakov Feltsman spat.

Phichit looked up sharply. “Hey, they were doing what they thought was best, and I can’t blame them for trying to save my best friend’s life—!”

“Give me a minute or two to come to terms with what you want me to do,” Christophe said, obviously displeased by what Danny was suggesting.

“Don’t force yourself,” Danny said.

“I’ll do it,” Viktor Nikiforov said.

Instant uproar.

“Vitya, you can’t be serious—”

“You can’t—”

“Don’t—”

Viktor’s voice cut above the din. “That ghost… it wants me, doesn’t it? It’s looked at me a lot while you were fighting, and that’s why it targeted Yuuri…”

Danny sighed. It seemed that Viktor Nikiforov was more observant than he’d given him credit for. “That’s the conclusion we reached.”

Yuuri Katsuki squeezed Viktor’s hand harshly. “But just because it’s focused on you doesn’t mean that you have to involve yourself like this! Viktor—”

“I’ve already been involved since the beginning, don’t you see?” Viktor said. “Because of me, you were almost killed. I can’t— I have to do _something_.”

“If you’re going to make a decision, do it fast, because that ghost’s almost done building its lair,” Dani interrupted.

Viktor slipped his hand from Yuuri’s. “Don’t worry, _solnyshko_. I’ll come back.” Viktor threw his arms around Yuuri for a tight hug before he turned to Danny and stepped forward.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“Hold still,” Danny said. Danny circled behind him and stepped into Viktor’s space, pressing his chest against Viktor’s back. He weaved his fingers through Viktor’s and widened his stance so his feet bracketed Viktor’s. He rested his head on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Last chance to back out,” Danny warned as he gripped Viktor’s hands tightly.

“Stop asking. I’m ready,” Viktor snapped.

“Fine,” Danny said before he closed his eyes and transformed back into a human, exceedingly grateful that the feature-hiding clothes he’d donned that day were undamaged, hidden as they had been in his human form. His secret identity was still safe, even though everything was being filmed. He heard some gasps behind him, but didn’t turn to look as he allowed himself to turn intangible and slide into Viktor’s body.

* * *

 

Viktor closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath as the weight on his back vanished and a chill creeped through his bones. He tried to avoid tensing.

“Viktor?”

Viktor turned and sent a strained smile at Yuuri. “It’s not that bad, just strange—” His breath hitched as pins-and-needles crawled down his spine and made themselves at home in his extremities. Then his head started pounding, and he closed his eyes as he automatically fought back against the invading presence.

 _This isn’t going to work if you don’t let me in_ , Phantom warned. Viktor exhaled and focused on ushering in the ghost. It seemed to work, because he felt a presence settle nearby in his mind – close enough to control him, if need be – but it didn’t attempt a hostile takeover. Phantom was just content to alter his body.

Cold wrapped its way around his limbs, flowing through his veins and anchoring in his bones. Viktor took a deep breath and found that the warmer air seared his frostbitten lungs.

 _Okay. Now to transform_ , Viktor heard Phantom say, mostly to himself. Viktor didn’t have time to wonder what that meant when electricity burned through his body, sending his nerves endings on fire. Viktor’s breath caught in his throat as he choked on the pain.

Viktor’s eyes shot open as his heart stuttered. The last thing he saw was the snowstorm in the rink clearing and the horrified look on the enemy ghost’s face, and then his vision went white.

* * *

 

_Viktor floated in a pure white space. Distantly, he was aware of his body violently protesting as it was forced to die, but in this space, he felt peaceful. He had nothing to worry about. Phantom knew what he was doing. He’d said so when he’d explained what he would do. Plus, Viktor somehow knew that it was Phantom who was acting as the buffer between his mind and his pain-wracked body. As if conjured, a flickering image of Phantom appeared before him, mimicking some of the words he’d heard only minutes before:_

_“Overshadowing only affects a person’s mind. When a ghost overshadows a person, their body is left intact, just a conduit for the ghost… But what I can do is a lot more… thorough. I’ll overshadow you, sure – actually undershadow you, which is when I go into your body and leave you in control… But then I can actually change your human body into a ghost’s body… It’s a difficult procedure, but I can do it… It’s reversible… But you need to be absolutely sure, and you need to trust me with your life…”_

_No, Viktor didn’t want to think about this as he felt another pulse of intense pain from his body. He wanted to think of something soothing. Like the feeling of gliding across the ice, or eating a delicious katsudon, or holding Yuuri and breathing in his scent._

_Something golden gleamed on his finger. Viktor lazily held up his hand and saw the gold ring Yuuri had bought for him. Just thinking of the moment made him feel warm and fuzzy, a good distraction from the agony that Phantom was doing his best to shield him from._

_Almost done, Phantom whispered. What do you want the costume to look like? You can use white, black, and neon green._

_It wouldn’t be the first time Viktor designed his own skating costume. With the colors he’d been given and keeping Phantom’s jumpsuit in mind, he crafted an image and sent it to Phantom._

_Phantom hummed. Not bad, he said. Not bad._

_Now, wake up._

* * *

 

Yuuri watched with trepidation as the bright halo surrounding Viktor’s body began to dissipate. He vaguely heard muttered oaths from his friends, but his attention was all on Viktor. Viktor was crouched on the ground, his back to the group. Yuuri took the opportunity to study his transformed coach with trepidation. He was expecting Viktor to be visually changed, but the reality of it hadn’t quite sunk in until Yuuri was faced with it head-on.

Viktor’s beautiful silver hair had lightened several shades to snow white. From what Yuuri could see of his back, Viktor was wearing a jet black, skin tight suit with white streaks spiraling around his limbs, instead of the trench coat and semi-formal clothes he’d been wearing just minutes before. Two more white stripes formed an upside-down V on his back, and covering his torso was neon green glitter that shone like tiny green stars.

Viktor stood and turned slightly, enough that Yuuri could see him staring at a white fingerless-gloved hand, opening and closing his fingers. Then he turned completely to face them. Yuuri couldn’t help himself from raking eyes over Viktor’s form.

Viktor was still Viktor, in that the contours of his body and face hadn’t changed. The black jumpsuit was adorned with a smaller version of the DP symbol at the waist, where a belt would have fallen. Radiating from the symbol were six streaks of white, the middle two curving around back to form the V and the last four spiraling around each limb. The ensemble was completed by white, form-fitting boots, fingerless white gloves, and more neon green glitter.

Yuuri searched Viktor’s face. His eyes weren’t their usual icy blue – they’d been replaced by Phantom’s toxic green orbs. But instead of Phantom’s all-business, intense stare, Viktor’s face softened into a fond smile at the scrutiny.

“How do you feel?” Yuuri asked breathily, wanting nothing more than to hold Viktor in his arms but unsure if it was okay.

Viktor hummed. “Cold, but it doesn’t hurt. I feel light. Colors are a little brighter. I don’t think my heart is beating, or that I’m breathing, but it’s par for the course, I suppose…”

Yuuri’s self-control wasn’t that good. He lunged forward to cradle Viktor in his arms. Viktor, instead of smelling like musk and ice – human scents – smelled of ozone and electricity. Viktor’s touch was usually cold, but now it felt like ice. It wasn’t the most comforting of embraces, but Yuuri would take what he could get.

“I’ll be okay, Yuuri. I know what I signed up for—” Viktor began before he was interrupted by a pained cry from the other, female Phantom.

Yuuri jerked away from Viktor when he saw that the enemy ghost, still trapped, was pressed up against the barrier, hateful eyes narrowed in rage. She hissed angrily and drew her claws down the shield, leaving disconcerting glowing streaks behind.

“And that’s my cue,” Viktor’s voice said, except it wasn’t Viktor – it was Phantom, reminding them of the danger they were in and what Viktor had to do. Phantom reached down to his boots and lifted his feet one at a time, drawing two fingers in the space below the boots. Skates made of ice materialized, firmly attached to the boots.

Phantom returned control to Viktor for a split second, long enough for Viktor to twine his and Yuuri’s fingers together, their rings clinking together, and for Viktor to plant an icy kiss on Yuuri’s cheek.

“ _Da skoraj fstryechi_ ,” he murmured. And then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The music when Yuuri’s possessed: Danse Macabre by Camille Saint-Saens, starting around 0:18. 
> 
> Yes, I did spend a fair amount of time staring at a map of Barcelona to make sure everything was spatially accurate.
> 
> Translations! Solnyshko = little sun, da skoraj fstryechi = see you soon.
> 
> So I’m not savvy on the actual technical rules of figure skating so. I did my best, but I still had to make up a few rules. Please don’t kill me.


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor vaulted over the boards, feeling light as a feather. Phantom shifted in the back of his mind, ready to help with his powers if need be. Viktor felt the sting of cold as he passed through the shield, but it hardly bothered him, even when he could tell that exposure to such temperatures could kill a human within seconds. (The very _air_ was freezing, little snowflakes of oxygen and nitrogen floating down to the rink.) Thankfully, he wasn’t human at the moment. (Viktor tried not to think about that. Now was not the time for an existential crisis.)

He could also feel something foul emanating from the rink. Viktor grimaced at the sensation, like something greasy had just slithered down his spine. _You’re sensing the other ghost’s power_ , Phantom explained.

_Do ghosts always feel so vile?_

_No. This one has just corrupted herself beyond redemption by killing._

The enemy ghost was screaming. With a jolt, Viktor realized he could understand her. “ _You cretin! You dare to infect my dear Viktor?!_ ”

“ _I’m not yours_ ,” Viktor replied coldly, idly noting that he was also speaking in the same language somehow.

_Ghost speak_ , Phantom whispered. _It comes to us naturally._

The opposing ghost looked ready to either break down crying or tear him to pieces. “ _You’re betraying me too?_ ”

Viktor seethed. “ _It’s not a betrayal when I was never yours. How dare you attack the Grand Prix Final! How dare you attack my friends! But most of all, **how dare you attack Yuuri**._ ”

“ _He took you away from me!_ ” the ghost howled. “ _And then he had the audacity to skate like he was better than you!_ ”

“ _I was **never** yours!_” Viktor repeated. “ _And Yuuri’s talent is his own! If he skated better than I did, it’s because he bloody well worked for it!_ ”

“ _Enough of this_ ,” Phantom said, using Viktor’s mouth. The ghost, realizing the change immediately, growled. “ _Tell us what we have to do to win this competition. I’m tired of looking at your ugly face._ ”

“ _Worried that your friend won’t be able to contain my power for long enough?_ ” the ghost mocked, grinning. While Viktor’s body didn’t outwardly react, Viktor could feel Phantom flinch mentally.

As a redirection, Viktor took control of his mouth back and asked, “ _What’s your name?_ ”

The ghost looked pleased by the attention. “ _Jokula._ ”

“ _Well, Jokula, you’d better prepare yourself, because I’m going to grind you into the ice,_ ” Viktor declared, his glowing eyes icy.

Jokula smirked. “ _You say that like you’re going to win._ ”

“ _I am. Now tell me what I have to do._ ”

Jokula glowered at the brusqueness but nonetheless answered. “ _We each perform a short program and free skate, something that hasn’t been performed in competition before. Human physical limits only. Whoever gets the highest combined score wins, using men’s scoring. It’s pretty simple._ ”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed. Technically, a man and a woman shouldn’t have been competing directly against each other at all, but he supposed it didn’t really matter to the ghost.  And limiting to programs that hadn’t been performed in competition… Viktor had a few of those, even from back in his junior days, things he’d put together when he was bored but that were ultimately scrapped for different programs. Would they be enough to win this contest? They would have to be. But there was another problem. “ _Who’s judging?_ ”

“ _I built an impartial judging system into the rink itself._ ”

“ _Impartial. Right_ ,” Viktor snorted. “ _You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you._ ”

Jokula scowled. “ _Well, you could hardly expect the human judges to be impartial, could you?_ ” She slid closer to Viktor intimidatingly. “ _Besides, you’ve forced me out of hiding and turned my own obsession against me. Make no mistake: when I beat you, I want it to be fair and square, knowing you gave it your all and still came up short. And then everyone in the arena will die, and it will be **all your fault**._ ”

Viktor bristled. “ _Don’t you dare underestimate me. A coward like you who’s just been watching and feeding like a bloated pig all these years stands no chance_.” Viktor wasn’t sure how he knew what her behavior was like – something he’d picked up from Phantom, most likely – but the knowledge served him well in that moment.

Jokula just smirked disconcertingly. “ _We’ll see, then, won’t we?_ ”

Jokula waved her arms, and her flowing dress shifted into a skating costume. It was still the same shade of grey, but now it was littered with blue specks that sparkled in the light. It curved around her figure, accentuating her breasts and hips. A teardrop shaped window was placed right where a bellybutton would be, and as she spun, Viktor saw that the costume dipped low in back, revealing the soft curve of her spine. Her long black hair pulled itself into a ponytail.

“ _I’ll go first_ ,” Jokula hissed. “ _Get off the rink_.”

Neither Viktor nor Phantom thought it was a good idea to leave Jokula alone in the Ward. Viktor proposed a solution to Phantom, and Phantom implemented it: instead of jumping back over the boards, Viktor floated a couple dozen feet above the rink.

“ _This should work, right?_ ” he called.

Jokula snorted. “ _Fine. If you attempt to impede me in any way, you lose._ ”

“ _Play by the rules, yourself, and stay away from the Ward._ ”

Jokula hissed. “ _Fine_ ,” she repeated. She skated to the center of the rink and got into a starting position, hugging herself. It was a little strange watching her from above the rink.

Furious drums began to pour from the speakers, and Jokula moved, striking a dramatic pose with each shake of tambourine. Coy clarinet and strings soon followed. Then the piece slowed into something sly and seductive, which Jokula’s movements reflected. There was also something eerie about the music and this dance, something just a bit off-kilter – something in the angle of Jokula’s arms, or in the subtly disharmonious notes.

Jokula’s first jump was a quad flip. Viktor felt like he was being mocked.

As her dance continued, Viktor’s frown grew deeper. For someone who hadn’t been actively practicing, Jokula was _good_. Better than good – she could give any one of the Grand Prix Finalists a run for their money.

_She’s undoubtedly killed skaters in the past and inherited their skill_ , Phantom explained.

_So she’s got lots of people skating for her, and I am skating alone_ , Viktor said.

_You’ve got me, don’t you? And you’ve got everyone cheering for you on the sidelines_ , Phantom reminded him.

_Yes. I’ve got Yuuri…_ Viktor thought of his heart’s smile, his laugh, his skating, his desperate hug just before Viktor stepped out onto the ice to confront Jokula. Viktor took comfort where he could.

Phantom remained silent, and Viktor returned his full attention to watching Jokula skate her seductive routine. The emotions she was portraying were all sexual and full of desire. For him, probably, Viktor realized with a shudder. Jokula was skating her obsession with Viktor. It was slightly horrifying to watch.

The music drew to a close, and Jokula struck her ending pose, one hand caressing her thigh and the other hovering over her heart. There was a smattering of unenthusiastic applause from the audience and an ending comment from the announcer (who Viktor belatedly realized had been narrating Jokula’s skate). Jokula wasn’t panting (she didn’t need to breathe, after all), but Viktor could see her entire body shuddering from the strain of maintaining the lair and skating a high energy program. Instead of skating off the rink, she leaped into the air towards Viktor, smirking in victory. Jokula had landed all of her quads and combinations and had otherwise skated perfectly, raising an arm on all the spins she could to increase the difficulty and the score.

Color swirled on the rink and formed into numbers. Viktor felt his heart sink.

117.46. It was marginally higher than Viktor’s personal best.

“ _Beat that_ ,” Jokula hissed, grinning maliciously.

Viktor glared as Phantom lowered him to the ice. _You know what you’re doing?_ Phantom asked, a welcome distraction from the leering Jokula.

_Yes. I’m very angry, and I have just the music and short program for it_ , Viktor replied before showing Phantom what he had in mind. _How are we going to get the music into the system though…?_

_Leave it to me._ Viktor felt Phantom reaching out, though he wasn’t exactly sure what the ghost was doing. But when his feet hit the ice, he knew that the music was ready in the system. All he had to do was strike his opening pose – head bowed, hands fisted at his sides – and wait.

Almost immediately, the music began to play – a fast and angry piece, each note accentuated to pierce the audience. Viktor began with a step sequence that conveyed his rage at the situation and transitioned into a series of dizzyingly fast spins with an arm raised for difficulty. He allowed furious energy to pour into each of his movements, his emotions feeding into his performance and enhancing it. His first quad went perfectly, as did his jump combination.

Viktor had always been an expressive skater. Besides his technical prowess, it was what allowed him to score so high in competition. He let every inch of that talent loose in this short program, allowing his anger to guide him. He was angry at the ghost for threatening them all, angry he’d been helpless to help Yuuri, angry at the universe for putting him into a situation where he had to trust his entire existence to a stranger, angry at the two Phantoms for being unable to decisively take care of the ghost before it became a deadly problem. Viktor wasn’t terribly easy to anger, but when he was, his fury was intense.

Technically, he did not allow himself to make any mistakes. While his balance felt different, Phantom was doing a good job keeping his body grounded in what he’d be able to physically accomplish as a human. Emotionally, he felt connected to the music, allowing it to guide him ever higher in his expression of his feelings.

Viktor’s fury was intense, but quick to burn itself out. He was barely able to sustain the unpleasant feelings through the entire performance. Fortunately, the last few seconds of the song were more contemplative than angry. Viktor felt calm, his negative emotions drained during his impassioned dance. He struck his final pose, kneeling on the ice with his arms wrapped around himself.

He panted as the fatigue caught up with him. Icy air stung his lungs, even though he was sure he didn’t need to breathe in this state. It was more a reflex of habit than of necessity. His sweat froze on his skin, chilled by the frigidity of Jokula’s lair. He felt warmer than he had been since Phantom had transformed him, but still nowhere near as hot as he should have been, had he just performed the program as a human.

His weariness was quick to dissipate, though, as icy energy raced through his veins, rejuvenating him. While it was normally a horrible idea to skate two full programs back to back, Viktor felt like he hadn’t just performed a short program at all and was completely ready for the free skate, mere seconds after he’d finished his short program. Ghosts were truly terrifying beings.

Viktor prodded Phantom, and he felt himself rising from the ice to meet Jokula in midair. She was eyeing him warily and almost brokenheartedly, as though she couldn’t quite reconcile what she had just seen with what she had known of him. It was typically out of character for him to use such a negative concept to skate, after he’d skated to the theme of death one season (the irony!) and found it distasteful.

_Are you doing okay? That was quite a performance_ , Phantom said quietly.

Viktor grimaced as he realized that his emotions had likely been an open book for the ghost to read. _I’m doing better now,_ he answered.

Viktor felt that Phantom was about to say something, but he was distracted by colors swirling on the rink. His score…

116.97. Just about .5 points below Jokula. A personal best, but still not enough to beat her.

Jokula burst out laughing, a grating sound that revealed she was just how much she was stung from Viktor’s performance and harsh rejection. “ _So close, and yet so far!_ ” she gloated.

“ _That’s a tiny gap to overcome. It won’t be too hard_ ,” Viktor countered. “ _I’ve made up from bigger differences._ ”

“ _Ah, but none of them were against me, were they?_ ” Jokula grinned mockingly. “ _Prepare yourself for hundreds of deaths once I win!_ ”

“ _The outcome is hardly decided yet. You can talk like that only after you’ve won, and I’m not about to let you win_ ,” Viktor rebutted, stubbornly refusing to let Jokula’s words faze him.

Mindset was one of the most important aspects of competing. If he let Jokula get to him, he’d lose. Her trash talking was amateurish compared to some of the insults he’d heard from other competitors over the years, but the stakes had never been this stratospherically high, either. He had never skated with lives on the line. It was almost a crushing pressure. A lesser man would have succumbed.

But Viktor Nikiforov was not a lesser man. He drew strength from his experiences, from his coach and his rinkmates, from his rival competitors, and especially from Yuuri.

There was no way he would let Yuuri down.

* * *

 

“We’re all gonna die, we’re all gonna die, we’re all gonna die,” Phichit chanted, holding his head in his hands and fidgeting. His blasé attitude regarding ghosts had evaporated the instant it had sunk in that they were all in mortal danger.

Yuuri understood the sentiment. He was quietly panicking, himself. Figure skating was a difficult sport, and it wasn’t unusual for skaters to be badly injured during practice or competition. But Yuuri had never thought that he’d be in a skating situation where he could die.

“Calm down. Viktor’s just getting started,” Christophe said confidently. “There’s no way he’ll lose.”

“Where did he get that program from, anyway? I’ve never seen him skate anything like it,” Yuri wondered.

“He developed it in a fit of temper before you were around,” Yakov explained. “I never thought he’d actually use it in a competition… Why would he skate such a risky program?? He’s going to give me a heart attack if he keeps using old programs he hasn’t practiced in years,” Yakov complained.

“It is strange that he wouldn’t use the short program from last season. He’d be most familiar with it, wouldn’t he?” Celestino mused.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the ghost prevented him from skating a program he’s more familiar with, just to give her an advantage,” Dani said, her voice noticeably more strained than the last time she’d talked.

 “And yet he still managed to skate a personal best, if only by a few decimal points. How’d he do that?” Yuri protested.

“Viktor is Viktor. He’s always surprising us,” Yuuri said quietly, keeping his eyes on the transformed form of his coach hovering above the rink. He and the ghost seemed to be conversing.

“He could also be drawing strength from the Phantom that’s possessing him,” Celestino offered.

“Bah,” Yuri grumbled. “Either way, that old man is a huge showoff…”

“Good thing he is, too, otherwise we’d be in a lot of trouble. I’m not sure if I’d be able to beat her in a skating competition using programs I haven’t performed for competition,” Christophe admitted.

“This is going to be nightmare fuel for the rest of my _life_ ,” Phichit moaned. “Yuuri! Why didn’t you tell me the Grand Prix was this dangerous?”

“Hey, it’s not my fault the Grand Prix attracted this thing!” Yuuri yelped.

“It looks like the ghost is descending back to the ice,” the announcer said, drawing the skating group’s attention back to the rink. The ghost was, indeed, moving away from Viktor. As she floated downwards, her dress changed again. This time it was shades of blue, which rippled over her form like waves. She got into her starting position, hands covering her face and head bowed.

Music played, slow and somber. A lone violin soon joined, sad and longing. The ghost’s movements were full of desperate yearning for something she couldn’t have. Viktor’s furious short program must have made an impression. He had rejected her in one of the most scathing programs Yuuri had ever seen, meant to emotionally maim the audience. It seemed it had certainly hurt her small, corrupt heart.

“A combination of a quad Lutz and a triple toeloop. She’s landed both perfectly,” the announcer said, narrating the ghost’s skating like he would any other contender’s.

The music continued and the ghost transitioned out of a camel spin into a mournful step sequence, her arms sweeping wide arcs in a desperate attempt to call back Viktor. Yuuri could perceive the poignancy of her feelings and felt the first twinges of anger. How dare she act like something as pathetic as a spurned lover while she was threatening lives?

The ghost landed another three quads in the program perfectly, including a quad flip and a quad loop. “Ugh, Viktor’s going to have his hands full trying to beat that,” Christophe commented softly.

The ghost struck her final pose, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. She looked totally serene, save for what Yuuri could just barely see was a nasty smirk on her face. She obviously thought she’d already won.

And when her score was announced, Yuuri began to fear she was right.

“219.42! What an incredible score! The ghost’s total is 336.98, higher than Viktor Nikiforov’s own record of 335.76,” the announcer said. “Will Viktor be able to beat that? I wonder what they’re competing for, anyway…”

Yuuri was immensely grateful that while the cameras were still recording and saving footage to memory, they weren’t broadcasting anything. He was also grateful that none of the others in the know had blabbed to the runners between the announcer and their main source of information – the female Phantom, who was definitely looking worse for the wear, with dark bags under her eyes and involuntary muscle spasms in her arms and legs. It would have been disastrous if all the people in the stands knew the danger they were in. One way or another, the truth would get out, but right now, the last thing they needed was a panic.

The ghost looked like she was gloating to Viktor’s face. Viktor spat something back that instantly had her souring, however. Yuuri knew how merciless Viktor could be and wondered what he’d said.

Viktor floated back down to the rink (and wasn’t it strange that he could fly at the moment?). Instead of getting into a starting pose, he ran his hands over his body and spun in a circle. It looked like the jumpsuit on his body was shifting, and when Viktor stilled, Yuuri saw he’d seen right.

Viktor’s second costume was simpler, consisting of white skates, black pants, and a black tuxedo top accentuated with thin white spirals like vines. A small DP symbol had settled over his breastpocket, and the vines wrapped around to his back to form a wide V, this time right side up. Unlike the last costume, the only neon green was in Viktor’s eyes.

Viktor waited for a few more moments before getting into his starting position, his arms wide open. He locked eyes with Yuuri.

“Don’t tell me he’s skating _this_ program,” Yakov choked.

Piano poured from the speakers, a gentle song that spoke of love – a stark contrast to the song for his short program. Moreover, it was a promise of new beginnings, of the beginning of an adventure that would span a lifetime. Viktor danced, his movements full of longing. But he couldn’t have been more different from the ghost – the ghost had danced to spurned love, while Viktor danced to love blossoming. Yuuri could tell Viktor was pouring his heart into this performance, his every step, spin, and jump dedicated to a new lover he had a lifetime to share himself with.

Phichit whistled. “Wow, he’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?”

Yuuri blushed, remembering the kiss at the Cup of China and fiddling with the ring on his finger. He could just barely see Viktor’s flashing in the light.

Viktor locked eyes with him for a split second. Yuuri took that time to shyly bring his ring up to his lips to kiss it. He couldn’t see Viktor’s initial reaction, but something in his expression softened and his skating somehow became even more expressive as he poured love into each of his movements.

Viktor had skated to the theme of love many times in his career – to different versions of agape, eros, philia, storge, ludus, philautia – but he had never skated to something quite like this before. This was a dance for pragma, of the longstanding, companionate love of a married couple. And he was _nailing_ it. Yuuri almost couldn’t believe that those incredible feelings were for him, and him alone. Viktor had told everyone himself, by starting his program as he did with a nonverbal shout-out to Yuuri.

Yuuri felt a hateful pair of eyes on him and glanced away from Viktor’s performance for a split second to lock eyes with the ghost. She looked like she wanted to tear him to pieces, slowly. Yuuri looked away, not wanting to miss any more of Viktor’s incredible performance. It wasn’t Yuuri’s fault Viktor had chosen a program that was a direct slap in the face to the ghost’s program.

Finally, Viktor struck his ending pose, hands folded over his heart and facing Yuuri. He winked and blew a kiss. Yuuri blushed, more so when Christophe catcalled him. Instead of returning to the air where the ghost waited, he glided over to the boards and leaned through the shield, grinning. Yuuri grasped a freezing hand.

Viktor said something that sounded like gibberish crossed with static and white noise.

“Can’t understand you, Viktor,” Yuuri grimaced.

Viktor frowned and tried again, this time speaking in what Yuuri recognized to be Russian. Finally, he switched to English.

“Do I have it now?” he asked. Yuuri nodded, and Viktor continued, “I just wanted to say… I couldn’t skate for you during the short program; I was too angry. But for the free skate? I realized that the strongest feelings I could convey are the feelings I have for you. I’m still mad about our argument last night… but I realized something very important when you were controlled by Jokula today.”

“Jokula?” Yuuri felt the need to clarify, his head spinning from the weight of Viktor’s words.

“The ghost.”

“Viktor!” Yakov roared, interrupting whatever Viktor was going to say next. Yuuri felt the moment slip away like sand through a sieve. “Why on earth would you skate a program you haven’t practiced since your junior days, huh? Why would you stake our lives on such a routine?!”

“What the fuck, old man?” Yurio choked. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“It seems a bit irresponsible,” Celestino added.

“I needed to skate to the music I felt most connected to in the moment. Plus one of the rules was using programs we hadn’t used in competition before. You understand that, don’t you?” Viktor said cheerfully. Yurio looked close to tearing his hair out.

“Hey. Hurry and get your score. I can’t hold the shield for much longer,” Phantom whispered, her voice thick with fatigue.

“Right.” Viktor tugged Yuuri close and planted an icy kiss on his lips before turning and flying above the rink to join Jokula. Christophe catcalled again. Yuuri thought he might spontaneously combust from the force of his blush. That had been… a rather overt display of affection. Yuuri wondered what Viktor would have said about their relationship, had Yakov not interrupted him.

“Looks like his score is showing up on the rink…” the announcer said breathlessly. “220.03! Not quite a personal best for Nikiforov, but pretty close!” There was a moment as his total score was calculated. “His total is 337.00, a mere .02 points above the ghost’s score of 336.98! Viktor Nikiforov has won this contest!”

There was a lot of screaming behind him, particularly from Phichit, but Yuuri could only let tears of relief slip down his cheeks. Viktor looked like he was celebrating midair, and there was a loud, pleased roar from the crowd.

Viktor had _won_. They were all going to live.

* * *

 

No. Nonononononononono. This couldn’t be happening. She’d skated her all in both her programs, drawing on centuries of ice skating experience and stolen talent. And _still_ she’d been beaten. By her obsession, nonetheless, in two programs that rejected her completely.

She’d never had an obsession so aware of her and so defiant. It just made her want Viktor Nikiforov more.

After tearing that other ghost from his body, of course. Jokula still had no idea how the two opposing ghosts had managed to sneak under her radar until it was too late and completely regretted underestimating them when they’d first revealed themselves. She also had no idea how they’d trapped her so thoroughly in a contained space. She was reminded of the shaman’s tricks that had hurt her, except many times stronger, somehow. Ghost hunting must have advanced in the centuries she’d spent hiding in the dark. Furthermore, she was completely baffled by how they’d turned her obsession mostly into a ghost – though he was still human at the core, she could smell it – but they would regret challenging her.

Her core was close to collapsing, the supernova required to build a lair in the human world exacting a high price. It would be a miracle if she made it out of this situation in one piece, and even then her core would be taxed beyond repair. It would take centuries to heal back to even a fraction of her strength. And that was only if she released the lair, accepted her loss with grace, and hightailed it out of the arena before anyone could catch her.

Maybe it was too late to destroy the stadium, and maybe it was too late to kill all the humans who had gathered here. But she was a vengeful bitch, and she refused to disappear before taking her revenge on the ghosts that had ruined her, even if it would destroy her.

She forced her aching core to change the rules of the lair. She nearly destroyed herself right then and there, but she held on to her existence with centuries of spite.

It was worth it for combat to be allowed in her lair. She was weak, she was flagging, but the other ghosts had to be, too.

Jokula tilted her head back and let out a furious scream before lunging.

* * *

 

Viktor was about to return to the boards to celebrate his victory when there was an enraged shriek. Phantom swore in his head before abruptly taking control and jerking his body out of the way, just in time for Jokula to streak past, claws outstretched and ready to maim.

_Damn, she changed the rules of the lair!_ Phantom swore. _I didn’t think she could do that!_

_You know, I only signed up to skate, not to fight,_ Viktor complained.

_Now is really not the time! I’m sorry you got dragged into fighting, but if you don’t stop distracting me, we’re both going to die!_

_What do you need me to do?_ Viktor asked, realizing the truth of Phantom’s words. Viktor didn’t think it was his imagination that the claws were missing by just a hairsbreadth. Already, there were several tears in the tuxedo jacket.

_I need complete control and some radio silence. Let go!_ Phantom gasped as he dodged another attack.

Viktor mentally moved out of the way, allowing Phantom to fill the space at the forefront of his mind. It was a strange feeling, sitting back and watching his body move completely without his input. Even stranger was how easily his body was fighting, when he’d never so much as thrown a punch in his life.

But Phantom was tired. Viktor could feel exhaustion dragging at his body where there had once been nothing but icy energy. He worried that Phantom wouldn’t be able to keep him in one piece.

_Fuck, I need a Devastator,_ Phantom said to himself. _But— shit— it’s stuck inside my human form—_

_Human form?_ Viktor wondered. It was a good thing Phantom wasn’t paying any attention to him, focused as he was on keeping Viktor from getting mauled.

“Dani! I need your Devastator!” Phantom roared. Viktor shivered at the sound of his voice coming out so harsh, so desperate.

* * *

 

“A Devastator?” Yuri repeated before glancing at the female Phantom. She was having troubles staying upright, clutching the pole like a lifeline. There was no way she’d be able to retrieve whatever device the other Phantom needed.

“Hey… need… some help,” Phantom gasped.

Yuri was next to her in an instant. He’d be damned before he let Viktor die on his watch, not when he could help. Yuuri hadn’t quite been fast enough to get to her before Yuri, still exhausted as he was from Jokula’s attempt to kill him. “What do you need?”

“On my belt… left side… a rod…”

Yuri kneeled next to her, staring at the array of devices on her hip. He was fairly sure he didn’t want to know what most of them did. There was only one device that looked like a rod, though, and he respectfully unhooked it from her belt.

“This one?” He held it out in front of her for confirmation.

“Yes…”

* * *

 

“Oi! Viktor!” Viktor heard Yuri shout from the boards. Phantom turned his head to see Yuri waving something beyond the shield. “Catch!”

Phantom swooped down, costing him a large rip in the shoulder of the tuxedo jacket as he caught the small device Yuri had thrown. Viktor didn’t get a good look at it before Phantom poured some of his remaining energy into it, and it expanded into a thin spear with a wicked-looking spike on the end.

Mentally connected as the two were, Viktor had a front row seat to Phantom’s thought process as he dodged another of Jokula’s desperate attacks. In her frenzy and pain, she was leaving wide openings between each attack. She wouldn’t last for very long – but Phantom could bet that she’d force herself to last long enough to deal some serious damage to him. The openings would make it easy enough for Phantom to deal the final blow – if he could muster the energy to take advantage of them.

Viktor knew he’d been using Phantom’s energy to skate his short program and free skate. He’d signed up to skate for the ghost, not to fight for him. But he knew he wouldn’t have been able to skate to his fullest without Phantom’s help. He had to return the favor, especially if he wanted to avoid the possibility of Jokula harming him.

_Phantom_ , Viktor said during an instant when Jokula was regrouping some distance away, having careened straight past them on her last lunge.

_Yes?_ Phantom answered testily.

_Use my energy_ , Viktor offered.

_I couldn’t_ , Phantom said, broadcasting alarm.

_We don’t really have time to argue, do we? I’d rather be tired than injured! Do it!_

_Fine._

Viktor felt a tug at his core, a warmth that blossomed in his stomach, before it was sapped away, greedily absorbed by the ghost. Instead of feeling wide awake, as he had during his skating, he felt like doing nothing more than finding a bed and dropping off to sleep. But he refused to be anything less than aware as someone else was controlling his body, so he forced himself to get past the energy drain to continue watching the fight.

Rejuvenated by Viktor’s energy, Phantom readied himself as Jokula dove at them again, claws outstretched. Viktor almost didn’t see what happened, because it was so fast. Phantom forced his body to move, flowing beneath Jokula’s attack like water, and stabbed the spear straight through the other ghost in the center of her chest.

Both combatants froze in place, a second seeming to span into eternity. Then Jokula choked on green ectoplasm, and time resumed its normal pace.

* * *

 

Jokula could feel her core collapsing. It had already been strained beyond its limits by building the lair, and then changing the lair, and then attacking in rage, but now her core was finally crumbling, the spear in her chest destroying its cohesion. She could feel pieces of her form disintegrating, her identity washing away as her core destabilized.

“ _Damn you_ ,” Jokula whispered. She didn’t even know the other ghost’s _name_.

The other ghost thought she’d been thoroughly defeated, overconfident in his toy’s abilities. And defeated, she had been. She was going to disappear forever – or maybe move on to the next stage of death; she didn’t know. All she knew was that she had been beaten by an upstart ghost, and she would never forgive him.

She was a twisted, petty, vindictive ghost, and she would make damn sure that the other ghost would remember her forever. Marking her final obsession would just be a bonus.

Jokula pulled together her last scraps of energy, clinging to existence as long as she could, and raked her claws across Viktor Nikiforov’s face.

Both the ghost and Viktor howling in tandem was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

And then she was fading, her vision turning white, and then there was nothing.

* * *

 

Viktor clutched at his shredded face, automatically pushing Phantom out of the way and letting go of the spear to try to soothe the hurt. He’d been injured while skating before, and it wasn’t quite as painful as the time he’d broken his leg – but it was so sudden, so unexpected. And it was bleeding heavily. Viktor tried not to think about how his blood was bright green at the moment instead of red. Or about how there was so much of it.

_Facial wounds always bleed a lot,_ Phantom said miserably. _I’m so sorry. I thought she wouldn’t be able to move…_

_The fault is hers, not yours_ , Viktor replied. It was unfair to blame Phantom for something neither of them had seen coming.

“Viktor! Viktor!” he heard Yuuri yell desperately. Viktor belatedly realized that the audience and, more importantly, Yuuri had heard him screaming in pain.

“I’m okay!” he yelled back, not willing to take his eyes off of Jokula’s form in case she tried something else. But she didn’t. That attack had been a final act of defiance.

Finally, Jokula completely disappeared from view, and the spear fell to the rink as her form vanished.

There were a few moments when nothing happened, the arena completely silent save for the almost inaudible humming of the shield. Then the temperature in the rink rapidly rose, frozen air sublimating into gaseous form again. The ethereal quality the rink had taken on under Jokula’s power vanished, but the disgusting feel of her energy didn’t dissipate like Viktor thought it would.

_This place is going to stink of her power for a long time, unless someone purifies it_ , Phantom explained.

_Will it do anything? Hurt anyone?_

_No. It’s just a residue, annoying but ultimately harmless. Without Jokula’s mind directing it, it can’t do anything but be a nuisance._

Suddenly, the shield collapsed, and warm air surged to take the place of the air in the rink, which was still far colder than it should have been. Viktor saw several people shiver as the freezing air was released.

Phantom tried to take control, but Viktor batted him away, and Phantom was tired enough to not put up a struggle. Having felt Phantom’s movements during the battle, Viktor (kind of) knew how to control the power to fly. _He_ wanted to be the one to greet his friends down by the boards, not Phantom.

Phantom shoved back. _Hey, I need to check if Dani’s okay—_

_I need to see if Yuuri’s okay! You can wait, can’t you?_ Viktor shot back as he wobbled in the air back towards the boards. He could see Yuuri waving frantically.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelled. It looked like he was crying.

“Yuuri!” Viktor called back, the scratches on his cheek aching as he moved his mouth. Viktor didn’t regret the pain in the slightest. He was still floundering in midair. He pouted. Phantom made this look so _easy._ Why was he going so _slow_? He had about a quarter of the rink left to cover and he wasn’t. Getting. Back. To. Yuuri. Fast. Enough. He flapped his arms to try to gain speed. It didn’t work.

“Viktor!” Yuuri yelled again. Instead of doing the sensible thing and waiting by the boards, Yuuri pulled off his skate guards and climbed over the boards to skate towards him. Now that Jokula was dead (could ghosts even really die?), he supposed it was safe enough to get back on the ice.

Viktor managed to descend and touch down on the ice just as Yuuri skated to a stop in front of him, breath frosting and skates sending up a spray of ice from the rink. Before Viktor could react, he was being pulled into a rough embrace. Yuuri buried his face into Viktor’s neck.

“Ah, watch the blood…” Viktor warned.

“I don’t care,” was the muffled response. “You’re cold, and you’re dead, but you’re really alive and you’ll be okay. I thought my heart stopped when you screamed. Don’t you _ever_ do that to me again.”

“Sorry,” Viktor said, returning the embrace and resting his unmarred cheek on Yuuri’s head. Viktor could feel Yuuri trembling slightly as he cried.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Viktor lied. In truth, it stung horribly, and it became irritated every time he talked, but he didn’t want to worry Yuuri. He cast about for a subject change and landed on, “Yuuri… what I wanted to say earlier…”

“Yeah?” Yuuri sniffed.

“I wanted to say that I want to stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”

“It’s almost like a marriage proposal,” Yuuri smiled, reminding them of when Viktor had said the same thing at an airport terminal. “And speaking of which, my performance got ruined this time, didn’t it?” Yuuri pushed away from Viktor so he could look him in the eyes. “So I have to stay in competitive skating for at least one more year, right?”

Viktor felt his eyes water. This was Yuuri’s decision? He couldn’t be happier. He had to make his own decision, too… “Excellent!” he exclaimed. “But you know, even I’m worried about making a full comeback if I’m staying on as your coach. In exchange, you have to become a five-time world champion yourself, okay?”

More tears dripped down Yuuri’s cheeks and he buried himself in Viktor’s embrace again. “Okay!”

_This is really sentimental and all, but I really do need to check on my sister_ , Phantom interrupted, completely killing the mood. _I need to know if she’s okay or not._

_Fine,_ Viktor grumbled. He wanted to be selfish and remain where he was, but he remembered how difficult it had been for the other Phantom to hold up the shield, and it was important to find out if the ghost that had kept everyone safe during the battle was okay.

“Yuuri, let’s head back to the boards,” Viktor said, frowning and loathe to surrender Yuuri from his arms but knowing that he had to do the right thing. “Phantom says he needs to check on his sister.”

“Oh! That’s right,” Yuuri said, pulling back and looking guilty. “She collapsed when the shield went down, but I was so worried about you—hey!”

Phantom finally took control of Viktor’s body and skated back to the boards, where a gate had been opened (since Jokula’s power was no longer holding it shut). The icy skates attached to his boots dissipated as he strode off the rink. Yuuri was right behind him, putting on his skate guards.

* * *

 

Danny hurried over to where a small knot of people had gathered around the pole that Dani had used to maintain the Ward.

“Please move aside,” he said forcefully, pushing Yakov Feltsman and Celestino Cialdini out of the way.

“Let me see, Vitya,” Yakov said, cupping his uninjured cheek and tilting his chin up.

Danny batted the hand away. “I really do need to check on Dani.”

“You’re not Vitya,” Yakov said, taken aback.

“It’s about time you got here,” Celestino said as Danny reached Dani. “I wasn’t sure if it was okay to touch her or not.”

Dani was crumpled on the floor in a ball in her human form, her features hidden by the bulky, disguising clothes they’d both donned. Danny kneeled and ran a hand over her form, prodding with his tired senses for injury in the manner Silvana had taught him. Dani’s core had been stabilized all those years ago, but Danny still worried, especially when she taxed herself so badly. He felt concern and a tiny sliver of guilt from Viktor for stalling with Yuuri for longer than necessary.

“She’ll be okay,” he announced, reassured that she wasn’t in danger once he had finished his scan. There were several sighs of relief. Danny was glad she’d endeared herself enough to the humans that they’d worry about her wellbeing. “She’s just exhausted and needs a lot of rest. Still, don’t move her.”

“Good!” Phichit said. “I was so worried when she collapsed…” Then he took a closer look at Viktor. “Oh, god, your face…”

“You look terrible, old man,” Yuri said, peering at the injury with worry in his eyes.

“You look like you ran into a bear,” Christophe added, frowning.

“You look like you need medical attention,” Phichit finished. “Hey! Rinkside medics! Over here!”

“Ah, I’d best return Viktor to normal before they take a look at him,” Danny said hurriedly. He wasn’t quite sure what made up his ectoplasm right now and didn’t want humans to get ahold of any hybrid samples straight from the source. There would likely be leftover ectoplasm in Viktor’s system once he left, but Danny had a solution for that, too.

The medics stopped at the outskirts of the small skating group as Celestino explained what was going on. Danny eyed them warily.

Then his line of sight shifted, and he was staring at a camera pointed straight at him. _Fuck_ , he thought in dismay. _Sam and Val are going to murder me._ Amity Park liked to keep its little ghost-infested bubble all to itself, and besides, almost no one else believed in ghosts. Any large-scale publicity tended to be bad and threatened all three of the halfas, plus the entire Ghost Zone if people were pissed enough.

Danny had a feeling that international belief in ghosts would be really challenged in the next few weeks, if all the film in the cameras was intact. He just hoped that he and Dani would be viewed favorably for preventing any more casualties, even though it had been messy. He also really didn’t want to intervene if the humans got any ideas to attack the Ghost Zone and, in extension, part of the balance of life and death itself.

_Hey, aren’t you supposed to be leaving?_ Viktor prodded. _As interesting as this has been, I would very much like to be human again._

_Right._ Danny took a deep breath – a nonessential comfort – and transformed back into a human. Viktor’s body, synched as it was with his, followed suit with a flash of light, leaving Viktor with silver hair, semiformal clothes, blue eyes, and red blood crusted on his cheek.

Before Viktor could run around in his returned human body, Phantom tugged at his consciousness. _Not done yet,_ he said.

Un-synching their two bodies was harder than combining their bodies to begin with. Danny almost didn’t know where to start. Going from the inside out probably wouldn’t be amiss, though.

Danny started with the heart. He forced his heart to beat to a different rhythm than Viktor’s. He had troubles with this, exhausted as he was. The two hearts seemed to be stuck together with some kind of metaphysical glue. But he finally managed it, and unsticking everything else was easy, in comparison. He drew all but the bare minimum of ectoplasmic energy back to his core and allowed his malleable body to shift away from Viktor’s features and return to his own. Distantly, he was aware of the throbbing in Viktor’s cheek, from Viktor screwing up his face like he’d just bitten into a lemon. Finally, he unwove their final physical connection – the plasma in their blood. Almost immediately, he was forcefully ejected from Viktor’s body straight into another person, who went down with a startled ooph.

* * *

 

Yuuri grunted as he was knocked over by the heavily clothed figure that was expelled from Viktor’s body. Phantom collapsed on top of him, panting laboriously. Distantly, Yuuri heard shouts of alarm. He woozily propped himself up on his elbows and peered over the bulky mass of fabric Phantom was wearing to see that Viktor had collapsed, only prevented from hitting the floor by a quick save from Chris.

“Viktor! Are you okay?” Yuuri called, not getting up to check for himself because he’d otherwise dislodge Phantom and dump him on the floor, which would be extremely rude to one of their saviors.

“Just… a bit woozy…” Viktor gasped, clinging to Chris and struggling to force trembling legs to take his weight.

“Hey, what’s wrong with him?” Yuuri asked, directing the question at Phantom.

“He literally just came back to life… plus he lent me a significant portion of his energy while we were fighting. And he’s likely got a bunch of residual ectoplasm in his system. I’m actually surprised he didn’t pass out,” Phantom said, levering himself off Yuuri. “Ugh.” His head dropped to the ground. Merging with Viktor and fighting such an intense battle had evidently taken its toll on the ghost, too.

Yuuri stood, feeling bruised from the impact, and held his hand out for Phantom to take. As he helped Phantom to his feet – and, wow, he was a lot heavier than he was expecting a ghost to be – he asked, “He’ll be okay, though, won’t he?”

“Should be. I didn’t touch his human core,” Phantom said. “He’ll need to sleep off the energy drain… and I have something that will help get rid of the ectoplasm in his system.”

“Is ectoplasm harmful?” Yuuri asked.

“Can be, if it lingers in the system for too long. But it won’t come to that.” Phantom dug around in his voluminous jacket for a few moments before presenting Yuuri with a large green and white pill. “Have Viktor take this, as soon as he can. It’ll cleanse his system of most of the residue.”

Yuuri accepted the capsule carefully. “Thank you, Phantom.”

Phantom laughed tiredly. “Dude, after everything we’ve been through today? Call me Danny. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of my sister and get out of here…” Danny moved past the two coaches to return to his sister’s side.

Yuuri made it back to Viktor just as Chris was beckoning the rinkside medics to approach and take a look at the gouges on Viktor’s cheek. He helped maneuver Viktor to a bench, where the medics began to fuss over him. Yuuri glanced around and spied a half-empty water bottle. Good enough; someone could spare it. He picked it up and presented Viktor with both the pill and the water bottle. Viktor eyed them blearily. He would likely fall asleep soon.

“Phantom—er, Danny told me you needed to take this,” Yuuri said.

“What’s it do?” Viktor wondered tiredly.

“He said it would get rid of the ectoplasm in your system,” Yuuri explained.

“Okay,” Viktor mumbled. He gestured sluggishly at his mouth and Yuuri, blushing furiously, complied with the unspoken request. He pushed the pill against Viktor’s lips – the intact side – and then held up the water bottle. Viktor drank greedily, more than what he needed to take the pill, and Yuuri guiltily remembered that Viktor had just skated two passionate programs and then taken part in an intense fight. No wonder he was thirsty.

Once Viktor was situated with the medics, Yuuri glanced over to where the female Phantom had fallen. Both she and her brother were gone, Danny likely having carted off his sister for both of them to recuperate in a safe space.

But the two ghosts had left behind some of their tech: the shield’s four anchors driven into the concrete, plus the Devastator spear still on the ice, and the strange bracelet on Yuuri’s arm. He still couldn’t find a clasp to get it off, and he wouldn’t need it now that the enemy ghost was gone. He wondered if they would come to retrieve it all once they’d recovered.

Yuuri jumped as the doors to the locker rooms burst open, the handles and locks broken by force, the cursed ice keeping them closed having lost its power. Security swarmed the area, followed by JJ, Otabek, and the rest of the coaches. Celestino and Yakov intercepted JJ and the coaches, while Otabek headed straight for Yuri.

“You’re late. You missed the entire ghost attack,” Yuri snapped at the security guards, who were preventing the media from mobbing the area.

“Ghost attack?” Otabek repeated, looking around. He spied Viktor – or, rather, Viktor’s injury – and froze in shock. “What on earth happened? We got locked in back and the broadcast cut out.”

“I’ll explain,” Yurio muttered without heat. Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d heard the normally prickly teen right, but there he was, being civil to another competitor. Had the two become friends or something?

“We’d like for Viktor to go to the hospital, just so we can monitor his condition,” one of the medics said, drawing Yuuri’s attention. “We’d like to admit you, too, as you were another victim of the attack.”

Now that she mentioned it, the adrenaline from watching the life-or-death contest was fading, and Yuuri was aware of a deep ache in his bones and muscles. Jokula hadn’t controlled him long enough to deal more damage than strain, but he was exhausted and would likely have to take it easy for the next few days while his overtaxed muscles healed. He sat next to Viktor, drained.

He likely would have dozed off had someone not draped his jacket over his shoulders and the cell phone in one of the pockets not buzzed. Reception must have been restored when Jokula was destroyed, or maybe when the shield went down. He tiredly picked up and fielded two calls – one from the group back in Hasetsu (his parents and the Nishigoris were worried by the broadcast cutting out – Yuuri had to explain the barebones of the ghost attack to them) and one from Minako and Mari (who had seen the entire fight from the stands and wanted to make sure Yuuri was okay). After he hung up, a medic started fussing over him. Yuuri allowed it. He felt like crap.

It wasn’t long before two stretchers were wheeled in. Yuuri thought it was a bit excessive, but allowed himself to be strapped on with grace and rolled out to an ambulance with Viktor, who really had fallen asleep.

Snoozing didn’t sound like such a bad idea, actually. Yuuri allowed his eyes to drift closed and was lulled to sleep by the rocking of the ambulance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More music! Jokula’s SP was Dance of the Seven Veils by Richard Strauss (about the first 2:30). Jokula’s FS was the Schindler’s List Theme by John Williams. Viktor’s SP was Mars, Bringer of War by Gustav Holst, starting around 4:24. And finally, Viktor’s FS was Rose’s Theme from Titanic by James Horner.
> 
> So I’m not savvy on the actual technical rules of figure skating. I did my best, but I still had to make up the skating scores. Please don’t kill me.
> 
> Jokula’s name is based off Jokul Frosti, with Jokul meaning icicle.
> 
> Yuuri wonders what Viktor says to Jokula after her free skate to make her upset. He said something along these lines: “At least I’m not a desperate bitch pining after something she can’t have.”
> 
> So I was originally going to have Viktor accidentally accelerate and smack into the wall when he’s trying to get back to Yuuri after Jokula has been destroyed, but I already had a funny moment around there, and I thought the tender moment would work better thematically.


	3. Chapter 3

Viktor woke up slowly and fuzzily. He wasn’t quite sure where he was, but the bed was comfortable, and he was still tired. So he flipped on his side and attempted to nuzzle into the pillow.

Mistake.

Something bit into Viktor’s injured cheek, making it sting harshly and immediately bringing him to full awareness. He prodded at his face and found that his cheek was swathed in gauze. Covering his nose and mouth, however, was what felt like an oxygen mask. Bewildered, he tugged at the mask, trying to keep it from digging in to the gauze.

“Oh, you’re awake,” someone said. Viktor cautiously looked toward the voice to see Yuuri’s sister, Mari, sitting in a chair next to another bed, which was occupied by Yuuri, who gave a small wave. She stood and circled around to Viktor’s bedside. “Here, let me get that mask off you.” She unclipped the mask and set it to the side.

Viktor took a deep breath of air, relieved that the pressure was off his injury. “What did I need that for?” he asked, surprised at the raspy, hoarse quality of his voice.

Mari handed him a cup full of ice chips, which he gratefully accepted. “Your blood oxygen level was low when you got here, plus you’d stop breathing every once in a while. Sleep apnea. The doctors said it should go away as the ectoplasm leaves your system.”

“Oh. Is there anything else?” Viktor wondered. “Where is here? And what about Yuuri?”

“Here is the Hospital de Barcelona,” Mari said. “Let’s see… whatever Phantom gave you has been pretty effective in getting rid of the ectoplasm in your system, though your pee has been green.” Viktor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Your cheek needed cleaning and a couple dozen stitches.” Viktor fingered the gauze covering the gouges, unsurprised. “You’ve been asleep for the past day or so. As for Yuuri… why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Viktor turned his head to see Yuuri watching him. “How are you doing, Yuuri?” he asked.

Yuuri chuckled. “I’ll be okay, nothing permanent. I just got a lot of muscle strain, particularly in my legs and back. I’m pretty sore right now and don’t want to move.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing more serious than that,” Viktor said truthfully. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Either waiting outside the room or fielding the press,” Mari answered. “The only reason you’re not swamped is thanks to hospital security. The doctors said that you weren’t to have any visitors other than family until you woke up and could give permission.”

“Well, I’m awake, and I’m giving permission. I’d like to see my friends,” Viktor said. “Yuuri?”

“I already gave my consent,” he said.

“I’ll let them know, then,” Mari said, heading for the door and disappearing into the hallway.

“How are you feeling?” Yuuri asked when they were alone.

“I’m a bit sore. I think you’re feeling worse than I am, though,” Viktor said thoughtfully. Then he prodded at the bandage on his cheek, frowning. “Yuuri, I don’t know if I’ll ever recover,” he complained, slumping in the bed. “My good looks have been ruined.”

“Scars are sexy, though. Don’t you think, Yuuri?” said Chris, sauntering into the room.

“Um, scars don’t really bother me at all, and I don’t think they ruin a person’s look, either,” Yuuri answered.

“Oh, I guess it’s okay, then,” Viktor shrugged, reassured. Chris grinned knowingly at Yuuri, who flushed bright red.

“Chris, you asshole, don’t go running on ahead of us,” Yurio griped as he entered the room, followed by Phichit, Otabek, Minako, and Mari. Phichit and Otabek were laden with what looked like get-well gifts, and they transported them to the bedside table between Yuuri and Viktor.

“Viktor! You’re finally awake!” Minako said enthusiastically before moving to Yuuri’s side. “And, Yuuri, how are you doing?”

“I’m still hurting,” he said truthfully.

“Can’t they give you painkillers or something?”

“They’ve already given me a mild dose… Is all that stuff for us?”

“Yeah,” Phichit said, handing him a random card and bouquet of flowers from the pile. “You guys are real superstars right now, you know? Everyone wants to talk to you. Yakov and Celestino are totally mobbed in the hospital’s lobby.”

“So you are bringers of news, then? Good. I want to know what’s going on,” Viktor said.

“Yep, that’s us, ferrying news and get well gifts to your lovely hospital room,” Phichit said. “What would you like to know?”

“Well, for starters, knowing the status of the Grand Prix Final would be nice,” Viktor said. “Has it been cancelled? Rescheduled?”

“They’re still debating what to do to make it fair, since Katsudon was possessed when he was disqualified and I didn’t get to skate my free program at all,” Yuri answered.

“Rumor has it, though, that they might overturn Yuuri’s disqualification due to outstanding circumstances,” Mari added. Viktor and Yuuri shared an ecstatic look.

“Really?” Yuuri said hopefully. “That would be nice.”

“Hey, you’re still skating next year no matter what they decide, right?” Viktor asked.

Yuuri gave him an annoyed look. “Of course. I already made my decision, didn’t I?”

“Oh, good. I’d never have forgiven you if you’d decided to retire,” Yurio spat.

“Eh?? You were thinking of retiring??” Minako said, horrified. “After such a great season?”

“Yuuri!” Phichit complained, loading all his displeasure at the idea of Yuuri retiring into a single word.

“It was just a thought!” Yuuri protested. “Anyway, what happened to the Phantoms?” he asked, desperate to switch topics.

“No one knows where they’ve gone. Even the ghost hunters that have poured into the city have been unable to find them,” Minako said. “I wonder where they went…”

“So they’ve left Barcelona altogether?” Yuuri asked, heart sinking. The bracelet Danny had attached to his arm was still there. The doctors hadn’t been able to figure out how to get it off, either, and they didn’t want to cut it off for fear of setting off whatever technology was inside. Yuuri supposed he could learn to live with the bulky thing, but he didn’t want to. Maybe he could contact the Phantoms somehow…

“It seems likely,” Chris said. “I wouldn’t want to be a ghost in this city right now, either. This place is crawling with trigger-happy hunters.”

“But they saved lives. More specifically, Yuuri’s life,” Viktor protested. “Why should they be run out of the city when they’re heroes?”

“Some people are saying that they totally mismanaged that ghost and put a whole lot of people in jeopardy as a result,” Yuri said dourly.

“But a lot of people are also saying that the Phantoms did a good job, being able to take out a ghost that strong in such a crowded place with zero casualties,” Phichit countered.

“Well, I experienced firsthand how tenacious that ghost was, and I think the Phantoms did the best job they could,” Viktor decided. There was a beat of silence as everyone digested this.

“It seems surreal,” Yuuri said, thoughtful, “that just a few days ago we were completely focused on skating our best, and ghosts were the furthest thing from our minds. Now… it feels like the world has undergone a dramatic shift, you know? There’s proof of life after death. It makes skating seem… I don’t know… unimportant in comparison.”

The mood in the room turned contemplative, Yuuri having voiced what all the skaters were struggling with post-attack. Phichit chewed his lip nervously, and Yuri scowled.

“I hate existential crises,” Viktor finally announced sourly. “You know what? Ghosts or no ghosts, skating will always be important to us, because we _make_ it important. We’ve come this far without being aware of ghosts, right? Why should this incident change how we view skating?”

“That’s right,” Phichit said, enthused. “We shouldn’t let this get in the way of doing what we love.”

“I mean, I’m pretty freaked out that ghosts exist, but we can’t live our lives in constant fear. They can’t be all that common, if we’re only just now finding out that they’re real,” Mari said sensibly.

“We need to keep moving forward. We can’t let this stop us from reaching ever higher,” Otabek added.

Chris grinned. “Aren’t we all sounding inspirational!”

Everyone chuckled, and the tense atmosphere in the room dissipated. Viktor’s and Yuuri’s visitors stayed for another hour or so, talking lightheartedly about how they’d all performed at the Grand Prix and debating what the organizers should do about the ghost attack. Finally, the door to the hospital room opened, and a nurse entered, holding a clipboard.

“Excuse me,” she said in accented English, “but I need to check the patients now, and visiting hours are over. Please come back tomorrow.” Everyone grumbled but said their goodbyes without too much complaint. Phichit and Mari hugged Yuuri, and Chris patted Viktor’s shoulder. The nurse changed the gauze on Viktor’s face and checked both skaters’ vital signs. Finally, she left the room.

“Yuuri, I’m lonely,” Viktor whined. “What should I do?”

“I’d comfort you, but I can’t really move my lower body right now,” Yuuri said regretfully. “Wait, no, Viktor, stop—”

“Too late!” Viktor sing-songed as he stood on shaky feet. He tugged all of the instruments he was hooked up to – an IV and a heart monitor, among others – along with him as he hobbled over to Yuuri’s bed.

Yuuri, meanwhile, kept up a stream of nervous babble. “You’re going to get in so much trouble, Viktor—no no no, don’t fall; I can’t help you right now—don’t scare me like that—uHM,” he squeaked when Viktor climbed onto his bed, groping one of his pecs in the process.

“Scoot over,” Viktor said, winking.

“We’re going to get in so much trouble,” Yuuri repeated, his voice muffled by his hands, but he nonetheless painstakingly moved to make room for Viktor. Viktor settled in beside him, grinning.

“Much better!” he chirped, wrapping his arms around Yuuri.

“What am I going to do with you?” Yuuri asked rhetorically as he snuggled into Viktor’s embrace.

“Look at the news with me?” Viktor suggested, holding up his phone, which he’d swiped from the pile of stuff Phichit and Otabek had delivered.

“Sounds like fun,” Yuuri deadpanned, shifting so he could see the small screen. Viktor tapped into his news app.

* * *

 

**GHOST ATTACK IN BARCELONA [video]**

What was supposed to be a simple skating competition took a turn for the deadly when paranormal menaces invaded the rink. Famous ghost, Danny Phantom from Amity Park, is seen here brutally battling another ghost, putting the entire crowd in jeopardy…

 

**CONFIRMED: GHOSTS ARE REAL**

As unbelievable as it seems, spirits of the afterlife do indeed exist. We received confirmation of this during the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona, a skating competition, which was interrupted when multiple specters made an appearance…

 

**HUNDREDS ALMOST KILLED IN BARCELONA [video]**

In a turn of events no one could have foreseen, ghosts attacked a figure skating competition in Barcelona. Two individuals – a skater, Yuuri Katsuki, and his coach, Viktor Nikiforov – were directly involved in the attack. Katsuki was directly targeted by the aggressor ghost, while Nikiforov joined forces with the defending ghost to skate against the assailant. The video shows the entire incident as captured by the many cameras in the arena. Following is an in-depth analysis of what happened…

 

**DANNY PHANTOM: HERO OR HAZARD?**

In the recent ghost attack in Barcelona (for more details, click here), locally famous Danny Phantom defended an entire arena of people against an aggressive ghost. However, despite his actions, there are some calls for his capture in the ghost hunting community.

“Phantom’s always been a huge problem in Amity Park. I don’t know why he’s expanded to an international setting, but it can’t be for any good reason.” –Maddie Fenton, ghost hunter

“Ghosts are never up to any good. You’ve got to contain and dispose of them.” –Fred Frederickson, ghost hunter

“Spirits can have a myriad of reasons for lingering on the mortal plane. Whether Phantom’s motives were altruistic or not remains to be seen.” –Avonaco Blackwolf, shaman

 “Phantom engaged that ghost at great risk to himself. I firmly believe he saved lives with his actions.” –Celestino Cialdini, figure skating coach…

 

**SKATERS RALLY AROUND PHANTOMS**

It has been confirmed that Danny Phantom was working with his sister, Dani Phantom, in order to contain the ghost that attacked the Grand Prix Finals in Barcelona. Contrary to what was expected, however, the skating community has rallied around both Phantoms, defending the ghosts even though their actions endangered an entire crowd of fans and skaters alike.

“I think they did a great job defending us.” –Christophe Giacometti, Swiss skater

“Without their intervention, people would have died. Maybe more people were put in danger, but the end result is that there were no casualties.” –Yakov Feltsman, Russian coach…

 

**KATSUKI AND NIKIFOROV HOSPITALIZED**

The two individuals most affected by the ghost attack in Barcelona, Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov, have been admitted to Hospital de Barcelona for treatment and observation. No interviews with them have been allowed at this time…

* * *

 

“Man, almost every news article is about what happened to us,” Yuuri said, blushing. “We’re going to be totally surrounded by the press for a while…”

“It’ll die down eventually,” Viktor said dismissively. “Let’s look at Twitter in the meantime.”

* * *

 

@espn

Shockingly, ghosts attack Grand Prix Final in Barcelona. Katsuki and Nikiforov hospitalized. es.pn/3oIPew

 

@sk8ergrl

Insanity at the Grand Prix Finals. Down with ghosts! #downwithghosts #barcelonaghost

 

@Nikilove

What on earth did Phantom do to my dear Vitya?! #downwithghosts #barcelonaghost

 

@ghostfan09

Viktor Nikiforov confirmed dead #barcelonaghost

 

@christiangurl

Ghosts can’t be real. They’re not in the Bible. God wouldn’t inflict such unnatural monsters on us. #downwithghosts #barcelonaghost

 

@katsukifan101

They need to overturn Katsuki’s disqualification! It’s not his fault he broke the rules! #barcelonaghost

 

@redhuntress

I firmly maintain that Danny and Dani Phantom are a pair of RECKLESS MORONS #arghtheseidiots #barcelonaghost

 

@thebestpointer

Oh my god we’re all doomed ghosts are real what is the world coming to #barcelonaghost

 

@jazzfenton

At least it wasn’t Plasmius this time? #barcelonaghost #vladplasmius

 

@doomsdaysayer

GHOSTS CONFIRMED. THE END IS DEFINITELY NIGH. #barcelonaghost

 

@celebrityno1

I’m so scared. Our world has been shaken to its foundations and we have to pick up the pieces. #downwithghosts #barcelonaghost

* * *

 

Consciousness returned in stages. There was a general idea that there was a sliver of light falling across his eyes. He burrowed into whatever he was lying on, feeling soft sheets curl around his body. There was a moment of peace… and then the pain hit.

Danny groaned, rolling over onto his back. Everything hurt. His whole body felt like one giant bruise.

As a seasoned ghost fighter, this wasn’t the first time he’d woken up in such a state. Jokula had bashed him around pretty thoroughly. What was new, however, was how his malleable body felt like it was trying to painfully stretch into a shape that wasn’t his. He twitched his fingers and felt like his hand was trying to be two different shapes at once – one large, the other slender. It didn’t take much of an intuitive leap to figure out why he was feeling such a way. It had to be how he’d combined with Viktor.

“This is what I get for trying something new without considering the consequences,” he grumbled. “If I look like Viktor Nikiforov instead of what I normally look like, I’m going to be pissed.” Groaning, Danny fought with his protesting muscles to sit up on the bed. He vaguely remembered carrying Dani back to the hotel, slipping in invisibly, putting her in the other bed, and then collapsing himself. He realized he hadn’t taken off the bulky jacket and sweatpants he’d worn in human form. He slowly stood, then tried to phase out of the cumbersome clothes.

Nothing happened. Well, he nearly blacked out again, but he didn’t go intangible the way he wanted to. His core was completely exhausted. He had burned through all of his ectoplasmic reserves. At the moment, he was, essentially, human. No ectoplasmic energy = no ghost powers. The only reason he was awake was because he had replenished his human energy supply by sleeping. His ectoplasmic energy would replenish itself either with rest, with food, or with special restorative pills his parents had accidentally developed a few years back. (They weren’t terribly healthy to use, though – like energy drinks for humans.) Then Danny was abruptly aware he was _ravenous_. Luckily, he and Dani had come prepared.

He lurched over to the bag they’d stored their food in and tore into a box of crackers. He vaguely registered his cheek aching as he ate and reached up to feel the slashes in his cheek. He winced and tasted blood as they reopened. (He internally groaned when he realized that the bed sheets would likely be caked with blood. Cleaning it up would be a pain and a half.) After finishing the crackers, he ate two bags of beef jerky, one banana, one apple, half a bag of baby carrots, some cheese, and at least two cupcakes. (Covering all the food groups was important!) He also downed two and a half bottles of water. When he was feeling better, he would venture out and get some fresher food, but at the moment, he figured Danny Fenton probably shouldn’t go wandering in what was undoubtedly a media and hunter infested city bearing the same claw marks as Viktor Nikiforov and Danny Phantom.

Feeling much better for having eaten some food, Danny stood on aching joints and shuffled over to where Dani was sleeping. She was out cold, her core still strained beyond exhaustion from containing such a powerful ghost in the Ward for so long. He returned to the half full food bag and deposited it on the bed next to her. She’d appreciate it when she woke up.

Next, Danny limped over to the bathroom. Bathing would be a blessing right now, but first he would have to do something about his cheek. He looked in the mirror, relieved to see that his face looked the same as it always did, save for his injury. None of Viktor’s features anywhere. He slowly stripped naked, glowering at how gross with sweat his clothes had gotten. He grabbed a towel from the racks and the medicine kit he’d brought with him and stood in front of the mirror. He grimaced in pain as he painstakingly cleaned the crusted blood from his face and neck, leaving only the sluggishly bleeding injuries behind. Then he grabbed a special ointment he and Jazz had put together – made of the same stuff as the restorative pills, just applied topically instead of swallowed – and liberally coated his cheek. His cheek started tingling, and he knew the ointment was doing its job. He watched in fascination as the ointment worked with the inherent ectoplasm that helped make up his body to stitch together the wound. He watched for maybe five minutes as his skin absorbed the ointment and the gaping gashes on his cheek were reduced to thin pink lines. The lines would fade as soon as his core recuperated and his natural healing factor kicked in, but the ointment was good for when he was exhausted.

He climbed into the shower and turned the water on full-blast. Having an ice core meant cold or hot didn’t bother him, but he still found elevated temperatures more pleasant than cooler temperatures. He stood under the spray for at least ten minutes, letting the hot water ease his trembling muscles, before he found the soap and shampoo to begin to gently wash away the grime from the fight, paying close attention to the many colorful bruises and scrapes he’d gained.

When he returned to his bed, clad in soft and comfy pajamas, he found that he’d actually hardly bled on the sheets at all. Maybe a spot or two here and there, but it looked like most of his blood had been absorbed by his clothes. Thanking whatever higher deities existed for small mercies, he rolled onto the bed and burrowed under the covers.

It was then that he realized that he hadn’t even thought to check his phone to let his friends know he was okay. He groped around for it on the bedside table, where he’d left it before heading to the stadium. (He’d learned one too many times that taking a phone into a ghost fight was a guaranteed way of getting it broken.) He powered it on and glowered at the screen. His old friends from Amity Park that knew about his identity, his parents, and his newer friends who didn’t know he was actually a ghost had completely blown up his phone.

Sam Manson: are you brain dead?? youre all over the news and ghosts are THE hot topic. way to keep things on the down low … youre doing okay though right

Tucker Foley: u done fucked up. at least your identity is safe?

Valerie Gray: I’ve had to stop at least two panics today in Amity Park. The rest of the world can’t be taking the exposure of ghosts much better. Come back here so I can hunt your dumb ass

Jazz Fenton: Oh, little brother, couldn’t you have cleaned this up without confirming the existence of ghosts? At least your identity is safe and everyone got out okay. That’s the important thing.

Dad: HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT PHANTOMS DONE IN BARCELONA WHERE DID HE GET MORE OF OUR TECH

Mom: Phantom has completely blown open the reality of ghosts. I can’t decide whether I’m upset at him or delighted. At least now we’ll be taken seriously outside of ghost hunting conventions and Amity Park. One news station has already interviewed your father and me.

Sierra Kramer: dude have you seen the news

Shakir Abdallah: Well, I have some new material for our D&D campaign.

Tina Mallon: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Nick Akerman: I know you said your parents are ghost hunters but I thought they were crackpots. I should rethink a lot of things now. Sorry.

Wally Oleastro: FINALLY CONFIRMED I ALWAYS BELIEVED

Daisuke Nakano: ghosts are real I can’t believe the world we live in

Gunther O’Doyle: i can’t decide if im excited or terrified. also are you okay you havent been answering anyone and i havent seen you in a few days

Danny couldn’t muster the energy to text anyone save for Sam (who would relay the news of his well-being to the rest of Team Phantom) and Tina (who he really needed to appease, otherwise she’d start a campus-wide hunt for him).

Danny Fenton: I’m fine, Sam. I know we messed up. Tell the others sorry for me?

Danny Fenton: I’m okay. I’m out of town for a bit for an interview and just got caught up a bit in the ghost attack fallout. Will talk to you guys later.

* * *

 

Viktor and Yuuri were released from the hospital the following day, following no complications during their stay for observation, though Viktor was scolded by the nurses for moving all his equipment. According to the doctors via bloodwork and consultation, Phantom’s medicine couldn’t take care of all of the ectoplasm he’d left in Viktor’s system, but what was left would slowly be flushed out over the course of a month. In the meantime, he would likely need more rest.

They held a press conference outside the hospital to satiate the press. It lasted for hours, and they had to cut it short, citing a need for more rest. The press was its usual self, asking invasive but curious questions about the whole ordeal. Yuuri and Viktor took turns answering questions.

“What are your thoughts on how the two Phantoms handled this attack? Several experts are saying that they mismanaged the attack and nearly got a lot of people killed.” (“Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. But the end result is that everyone got out alive, including me – and I was deliberately targeted! So I’d rather say thank you than criticize their actions.”)

“Why did you decide to team up with Phantom?” (“Everyone was in danger. Why wouldn’t I try to help?”)

“Several ghost experts have said that what Phantom did to you was impossible. What are your thoughts on that?” (“Well, obviously it wasn’t impossible if Phantom was able to pull it off!”)

“Do you think a mandatory taskforce dedicated to ghost containment and control should be created?” (“Perhaps, but only if ghosts were treated like the sentient beings they are. There are bad ones, like the one that attacked me, but I think there are also good ones, like the Phantoms.”)

“What do you think should be done with the equipment the Phantoms left behind?” (“It should probably be returned to them.”)

* * *

 

“Ugh, that was exhausting,” Yuuri complained on the taxi ride back to the Prince Hotel. “I mean, I’ve dealt with the press before, but they were really out for blood today.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “It’s probably because we were the ones closest to the action and therefore should know the most about the incident. The world is changing, and we’re smack dab in the middle of it.”

“I guess. When I began skating, I never expected to become so famous for something that wasn’t even my fault,” Yuuri sighed.

“Even people who don’t follow skating know us by name now. It is a bit strange,” Viktor admitted. “I suppose it just means dealing with a bigger fanbase.”

Yuuri groaned. “Whyyyyy.” Yuuri was fairly shy. Dealing with fans was not one of his favorite pastimes.

Viktor nudged him. “We’ll deal with it together. You’re stuck with me, remember?”

“I remember,” Yuuri said affectionately, his ring glinting in the sunlight.

They made it back to the hotel without incident, though the police had set up a cordon around it to keep it from being mobbed by the press. Hotel guest had to show a photo ID to get past the security.

They entered the lobby to find it comfortably filled with people, most of them associated with the Grand Prix Final in some form or fashion. Unlike the press, these people were more restrained, and aside from some pointing and whispering, Viktor and Yuuri were left alone as they headed to the bank of elevators.

An elevator opened right in front of him, and Viktor thoughtlessly stepped forward and collided with someone else. “Oh, I’m so sorr…” Viktor trailed off as he got a good look at the person he’d bumped into.

He was wearing a black, nondescript hoodie with the hood pulled up and jeans. Viktor caught a flash of black hair, a hint of blue eyes, and a glimpse of faded white marks on one cheek. There was nothing terribly interesting or unique about him.

But from the contours of his face, for a split second, he thought he’d run into Phantom. However, Phantom had a slight luminescence as a ghost, and this person didn’t. Phantom was a ghost, and this person was a human, so they couldn’t possibly be the same entity.

“Excuse me,” the man said, ducking his head. Viktor wordlessly moved out of the way. The man sounded a lot like Phantom too, if his voice lacked a ghost’s echo-y quality.

Viktor knew that a ghost couldn’t successfully masquerade as a human, not in this city right now, which was humming with ghost detection devices. But the longer he stared at the retreating back and the more he thought about it, the more Viktor started doubting.

He remembered Phantom inadvertently letting phrases like “transform” and “human form” slip. He thought of how the ghost experts couldn’t know everything about ghosts, if Phantom had capabilities they thought impossible, like how he’d changed Viktor. He pictured the Phantom look-alike in his mind and compared the strangely pale marks on his face to the claw marks that were healing on Viktor’s. Were they a match? Viktor couldn’t be sure; he’d need a closer look. Finally, as he stood there thinking, he noticed a strange, mild tingling in his gut – a sensation he only felt when the residual ectoplasm in his system was reacting to something. It faded as the Phantom look-alike moved farther and farther away.

Viktor was about… 75% sure he’d just run into Phantom in disguise. He turned to run after the man…

…and he was gone. In the time he’d spent thinking, the man had left the hotel. But Viktor just _had_ to see him again, to confirm if he really was making connections that weren’t really there. He considered chasing him out of the hotel and then dismissed it as too impractical and unlikely to succeed.

Plus, there was the press outside and all the people inside the hotel to consider. Phantom was a wanted ghost. He had to be discreet about approaching the look-alike, otherwise he might end up dooming Phantom to an extended stay in a laboratory. A poor way to say thanks to the being who had saved their lives.

Viktor knew that he was, by no means, a subtle person. But for Phantom… maybe he could make the effort.

“Hey, Yuuri…”

“Hmm?” Yuuri had already boarded the elevator and was waiting for Viktor to join him. He’d thought nothing of the encounter.

Viktor had other ideas. He held out his hand and, when Yuuri took it, tugged him out of the elevator. “I feel like staying in the lobby for a while,” he said.

Yuuri looked wary. Viktor was probably wearing a look that bespoke mischief. Having been on the receiving end of such a look before, Yuuri was right to be cautious. “Any particular reason why?” Yuuri asked.

Mindful of how they were being watched, Viktor only replied mysteriously, “I just feel like it!” Viktor led Yuuri over to a pair of armchairs with a clear view of the front door of the hotel and had them both sit.

“Er, Viktor… What are we doing?” Yuuri whispered.

“We’re on a stakeout,” Viktor hissed back.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Just looking for someone, is all.”

“Ugh, I feel sorry for them,” Yuuri grumbled, resigning himself to Viktor’s whims.

* * *

 

Danny returned to the Prince Hotel, laden with a couple of plastic bags of fresh takeout from the food court in the nearby mall, the Diagonal Mar. Dani had briefly woken up earlier and had greedily devoured the edible remnants in the food bag. Danny himself had quickly become hungry again too, so finding more food was a necessity for their recovery.

Danny paid no mind to anyone in the lobby and made his way unhindered towards the elevators until someone shouted, “Wait!” and grabbed his shoulder.

It was Viktor Nikiforov. Behind him was a confused but resigned Yuuri Katsuki.

Danny immediately began sweating. Accidentally running into Viktor earlier on his way out to get food had been nerve-wracking enough – he had felt the vestiges of his ectoplasm in Viktor’s system reacting to him like a beacon and could only hope that Viktor hadn’t felt it himself.

From the critical look Viktor treated him to and the knowing look in his eyes, Danny didn’t think he was that lucky. Still, he had to act like a stranger. Confirming Viktor’s suspicion in this very public place would be a disaster.

“I-I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Danny said, backing away from Viktor. Retreating was always an option.

Viktor simply followed him and treated him to a blinding smile. “It’s okay, really! I just have a quick question!” he said cheerfully. He yanked Yuuri’s arm, still bearing the bracelet Danny had snapped on it, out for Danny’s inspection. “Can you get this bracelet off my friend’s wrist? You look like the kind of guy who would know how.” Then Viktor winked slyly and gave him a conspiratorial nudge.

_Oh god, he knows,_ Danny thought, panicked. He couldn’t bow out of this encounter without making a scene, nor could he redirect Viktor. The ectoplasm in Viktor’s system was definitely reacting to its proximity to Danny, and there was no way Viktor couldn’t feel it.

Viktor knew he was Phantom, that much was certain. Yuuri looked clueless, however. Could he maybe get the skater to redirect his coach…? From the intensity of the grip on Danny’s shoulder, though, Viktor wouldn’t be distracted that easily.

Danny’s only option was to get somewhere private so he could convince Viktor to leave him alone. The lobby was a horrible place to try to confront someone discreetly; Viktor was an idiot for engaging him in this public place.

“I might be able to,” he said carefully, mindful of the stares of the bystanders. “I have some tools up in my room.” Before Viktor could react, Danny grabbed his wrist and hauled him over to the elevators. Viktor automatically tried to resist the hold, but the slightest application of energy to Danny’s muscles was more than enough to power through Viktor’s strength.

He made it to the elevators quickly and glanced back. Instead of looking annoyed at being dragged around, Viktor looked delighted and a tad bit smug. Danny supposed his supernatural strength was as good a confirmation as any that he was not what he seemed.

Yuuri, on the other hand, seemed a bit bewildered by the turn of events. “Wait, what?” he blurted, following Viktor automatically. “Hey, who are you?”

“No one important,” Danny said in a faux-cheerful voice before Viktor could respond. He herded them both into the elevator. Viktor looked like he wanted to say something, but Danny hissed, “Not here, dumbass.”

Danny was able to keep Viktor and Yuuri from making a scene until they made it to his hotel room and the door was firmly bolted shut. Yuuri looked around in curiosity at the semi-trashed room and the lump under the covers on one bed.

He was quickly distracted by Viktor, though.

“Well, I’m not as surprised as I should be that you have a human form to hide out in, Phantom,” Viktor said. Danny gave him the stink-eye as he set down the bags of food.

Yuuri choked and did a double-take, staring at Danny. “Wait, that’s _Phantom?!_ ”

Danny grumbled, “Ugh. Yes, I am. Shout it from the rooftops, why don’t you? It’s not like I have a human identity to keep secret or anything…”

“You didn’t do a great job of keeping it from me while you possessed me,” Viktor chided. “You ought to be more careful.”

Danny thought back to the fight against Jokula. Had he broadcasted anything about his human form? He must have, if Viktor was bringing it up. Plus there was the trace ectoplasm in Viktor’s system to consider, as well as Viktor’s curiosity. “Yeah, I definitely should have seen this coming,” he sighed. “Now let me get that bracelet off your arm.”

Yuuri cautiously stepped forward, studying him closely while holding out his arm. Danny supposed he was looking for any sign that Danny was more than human. (Yuuri wouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Danny worked hard to maintain his human form.) Danny grabbed Yuuri’s arm and tugged him closer, then began fiddling with the bracelet. Danny could understand why Yuuri hadn’t been able to get it off; the clasp was well-concealed, practically invisible if you didn’t know what to look for.

“Thanks for returning this,” he said, setting the bracelet on a bedside table. “Now, was there anything else?”

“You’re really Phantom?” Yuuri asked, scrutinizing him.

“I thought I told you to call me Danny,” Danny replied, annoyed.

“Whoa,” Yuuri said. “You really are him, aren’t you?”

“I thought we’d established that,” Danny sighed. “So what do you want? Or did you just want to find out about my secret?” he tacked on bitterly. There were a lot of people out there who would kill to find out just how Phantom was able to disappear so easily.

Viktor shook his head. “That’s not it. I wanted to meet you again to tell you something, but I didn’t think I’d be able to find you. Until I stumbled across your human form, at least. And could you pass it on to your sister, too? I wasn’t able to say this properly before… Danny, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for saving Yuuri,” Viktor said seriously.

“For saving all of us,” Yuuri added.

“Oh. You’re welcome? It was a joint effort,” Danny replied modestly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “I couldn’t have beaten that ghost without the help of my sister. Or Viktor. I am sorry that I had to drag Viktor into the fighting and that I ruined your competition as a whole.”

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed by the outcome, but there will always be more competitions,” Yuuri said.

“The important thing is that we all made it out alive. You and your sister ensured that,” Viktor added.

“How is she, anyway?” Yuuri asked, eyeing the lump under the sheets.

“Recovering. She exhasuted herself pretty badly, but she’ll be okay,” Danny said. “She woke up to eat earlier but she’ll probably be out for a while longer.” There was a short pause. “I hope you won’t tell anyone about my human form.”

“Of course not!” Viktor said, offended. “It would be ungrateful of me to expose you.”

Danny sighed gustily, relieved. He only had Viktor’s word, but Viktor seemed like a pretty trustworthy guy, especially since he’d put his life on the line to help Danny. A little faith would be the least he could do, especially since… “I’m sorry about your cheek,” Danny said, eyeing the gauze on Viktor’s face.

“I already told you it wasn’t your fault,” Viktor said. “You’ve done so much to keep us all safe. Some scars are a small price to pay for facing such a ghost. It looks like you’ve already healed, though…?”

“Yeah, I have a healing factor,” Danny admitted.

“How does that work, anyway? Your human form?” Yuuri asked curiously.

“It’s complicated. I’d rather not say.”

“Fair enough. By the way, you do know you left behind a bunch of your equipment on the rink, right? What are you going to do about it?” Yuuri asked.

Danny grimaced. “I know. I didn’t have the strength to retrieve our stuff and get us both out of there undetected. We’ll probably just have to leave it in the hands of the authorities. Stealing that stuff back when we weren’t supposed to have it to begin with probably wouldn’t be the best idea.” It was a partial truth. While Danny had access to the Fenton weapons vault, he technically wasn’t supposed to be running off with the equipment inside. Thankfully, his parents still hadn’t figured out that he (and Jazz, to a lesser extent) was the one pilfering the vault.

“We could try to retrieve it for you,” Viktor offered. “With the amount of social clout we currently wield, I don’t think it would be too hard!”

Danny shook his head. “That’s nice of you, but then how would you get it to us inconspicuously? It’s okay. I think that stuff will return to its rightful owners one way or another, anyway.”

Viktor shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah. Was there anything else you wanted? I’d rather not have the public wondering where you disappeared to for too long,” Danny said.

Viktor shook his head, smiling. “No, I just wanted to express my gratitude. And I have, so I can leave with no regrets. Come on, Yuuri.” Viktor tugged Yuuri along to the door.

“You know,” Viktor said over his shoulder, “You should come to the next Grand Prix Final. We could show you what real competitive skating is supposed to look like. It would be fun. I think we could be good friends.”

Danny’s lips quirked into a small grin. “I’ll think about it.” Befriending Viktor and Yuuri didn’t sound so bad, if he could actually find the time to get to know them better. They seemed like good people, from what Danny had learned of them during his possession of Viktor and their brief conversation. But who knew what he’d be up to this time next year?

“Bye,” Yuuri said, smiling shyly. Viktor waved wordlessly and shut the door behind him. Danny sighed, tension draining out of him, and returned to the bags of food he’d acquired. Dani would surely be hungry once she awoke again.

* * *

 

It was only a few days before the ISU announced what they’d do about the ghost attack. Yuuri’s disqualification was overturned due to extenuating circumstances, and Yuri would skate his program a few days later on another rink. There was some controversy from the skating community and from around the globe regarding the fairness of the overturned disqualification and the rescheduled free skate – some thought Yuri shouldn’t be allowed to skate at all, others thought all the skaters should re-skate their free programs, and a few worried about the event attracting another ghost (even slim as those chances were).

Yurio cornered Yuuri before he was rescheduled to skate and, in typical blunt Plisetsky fashion, demanded to know if Yuuri had really decided to retire or not. Yuuri privately thought that Yuri looked relieved when he said he wasn’t retiring just yet, though the teenager would never admit it.

Yuri skated a beautiful free program, though it was obvious he was still shaken up from the ghost attack, his movements slightly more cautious and restricted than normal. Yuuri couldn’t blame him for the mental weakness; he still had troubles on the ice, himself. He would remember the choking feeling of Jokula’s control over him, the tired strain of his body as it was unwillingly forced past its limits, and would struggle to find the calm he could usually maintain on the ice. But he was determined to keep skating and figured that he’d be able to cope with his trauma in time.

Yuri’s total score wound up being just a few measly points below Yuuri’s. Yuuri stood on the top of a Grand Prix podium for the first time in his life, Yurio beside him with a silver medal and JJ below with the bronze.

When Yuuri returned to Viktor’s side, Viktor sweetly kissed Yuuri’s gold medal under the flashing lights of the press, which had swarmed en masse (along with the ghost hunters) to the make-up program.

“I’m so glad I got to kiss Yuuri’s gold medal,” Viktor purred later, when they were alone in their hotel room.

But Yuuri could detect a thread of nervousness beneath the confident demeanor and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Viktor smiled. “I can’t keep anything from you, can I? …You’re not thinking of taking back your not-retirement since you won gold, are you?”

“Of course not!” Yuuri said crossly. “You told me I had to become a five-time world champion, remember? Besides, I call interference on this gold medal. I want to have truly earned it next time.”

Viktor laughed, immediately reassured. “A ghost attack certainly is a spectacular interference! As your coach, I expect to see you on top of that podium again, understand?”

As it turned out, the Fentons did eventually get their hands on their wayward technology, confiscated by the government but ferociously fought for by Jack and Maddie. They had to concede to creating and patenting several of their more easily-produced anti-ghost technologies for mass production. It made Danny’s job a little harder in the long run – but most people knew him as a good ghost by now, and he was protected by the goodwill of the people, to his parents’ chagrin.

Ghost sightings around the world increased, and most countries budgeted funds for a force dedicated to protecting the populace from ghosts, but ghost-related injuries and deaths didn’t rise with the increased awareness. The hype from the outing of ghosts as real entities died down, eventually, too.

All was well.

* * *

 

One year later

“And we’re back at the 2017 Grand Prix Final in Marseille, France, with world-famous skater and one-time ghost wrangler Viktor Nikiforov about to skate his free program! Up next after him is his student and fiancé – and wasn’t that a shocking announcement – Yuuri Katsuki, who’s rebounded spectacularly from his harrowing experience in the 2016 Barcelona Grand Prix. We see them together preparing for Nikiforov’s skate…”

Yuuri tuned out the announcers as he fussed with Viktor’s free skate costume. “Everything feel alright?”

“Yes. I’m ready,” Viktor said.

Yuuri reached up and caressed Viktor’s scarred cheek. Like Yuuri had predicted, Viktor still looked quite handsome once he’d healed, even with his remaining scars. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” he murmured.

Viktor snorted. “Let’s not focus on that disaster. I’m almost up. Got any encouraging words for me?” he said playfully.

Yuuri said, heartfelt, “Let’s make it to the podium together, alright?”

Viktor smiled warmly before leaning forward and chastely kissing Yuuri on the lips. The crowd roared.

Up in the stands, Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Dani Fenton, Valerie Grey, Jazz Fenton, and Tucker Foley cheered with the rest of the fans as Viktor took to the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any resemblance of twitter handles to anyone real is unintentional (save for ESPN). Did you spot the two canon DP characters’ tweets?
> 
> Aaand that’s a wrap! Hope you all enjoyed!


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